The Great War
by PJwings
Summary: Jon Snow isn't the only child found after the war is over. Ned Stark has another secret to keep after he comes home from the war. Now years later, with the realm in open rebellion, Orin Stark will find out his true heritage and enter the Game of Thrones.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Ned Stark eyed the castle as he quietly walked towards its gate. It'd been a long journey, a tireless one, but one that was soon coming to an end. All the battles in the years past, all the men lying beneath the grown, his own sister among them, and here he stood. The country broken, his friend Robert on the Iron Throne, a son in Winterfell he's never met, and the difficult task of telling the woman he once loved that her brother was now dead by his hand.

It almost didn't feel real, yet as he entered the castle, he saw the judging eyes and knew that it was.

He was Lord of Winterfell, the Usurpers trusted commander, and he'd gone against the crown and the Dornish, the people he now passed in these very halls. It could have very well been suicide to come here, but like every decision Ned made in his life, he tried to do the right thing.

The honorable thing.

It's why he was here, it's why Jon, his newest son was with him as well. Not matter the odds, no matter what happened to him, Ned would always do what's best for those he loved.

Even if it destroyed his image to everyone he knew and cared for.

"Lord Stark," The maester greeted him outside of Lady Dayne's chamber as Ned approached. "I did not expect to see you in Dorne."

"Did not think to be here," Ned answered solemnly. He could feel Ser Arthur Dayne's sword weigh down on him as he spoke. "May I see Lady Dayne?"

The maester eyed Ned knowingly before glancing back towards the closed door. He didn't expect to be in this position and had difficulty deciding. Knowing full well Lady Dayne would be disappointed turning away Eddark Stark, the maester relented.

"I urge you to remain calm Lord Stark," The maester finally said.

Ned eyed the man with questioning eyes. "Calm?"

"Go inside."

Giving one last soulful smile, the maester walked passed Ned, leaving him alone in front of the closed door. His words rang through his ears as he wondered what the older man was on about.

Thankfully, Ned didn't take after Brandon or Lyanna, he knew better to keep his emotions in check.

Resting his hand against the door, he braced himself for another uncomfortable situation as he pushed the door open to face the woman he once cared for.

Ned wasn't sure what to expect. It'd been almost two years since the tourney at Harrenhal, the last time he'd seen Ashara, and he'd left on fond memories before departing.

Life seemed so simple back then. He had no commitments to anyone. Cat was to marry Brandon, Robert his sister Lyanna, and it seemed the realm would carry on the way it had for so long.

Now almost everyone he loved was gone, and the honorable man he'd been at Harrenhal was replaced with someone he hardly recognized.

Yet the moment he opened that door, and saw Ashara sitting by the window peacefully in the sun, everything changed. He felt the memory of Lyanna's dying body flash before his eyes before he came to rest on the tiny bundle in Ashara's arms.

Feeling another's presence, Ashara's eyes met his and the two stood staring in silence.

He didn't know who spoke first but Ned soon found himself slowly walking towards her quietly.

"Ned," She whispered faintly, not wanting to wake the babe in her arms.

Ned couldn't speak as he approached the two. His eyes soon left Ashara's tearful face to rest on the boy in her hands. He must have been a year old, already growing, as Ned watched him.

He felt the same surge he had when he'd held Jon for the first time, wondering who this baby was to him.

"His name?" Ned said softly.

"Ned please," Ashara begged.

Ned finally looked at her, tears in his eyes. "His name."

"Orin Stark."

It was impossible to tell, but the second Ned heard the words, he knew it to be true. A small part of his heart hurt, as he knew what this meant.

"Brandon's."

Ashara's tears continued to fall as she nodded. "I'm so sorry."

Looking back down, Ned noticed the baby had woken from his slumber. His dark eyes, so similar to Jon's looked up at him, almost knowingly, and stared. He didn't move, didn't cry, just looked up at Ned and watched.

He had another nephew, and just like Jon, this one changed everything.

Eddard Stark looked down at his newest nephew, and knew that as of now, Orin Stark was rightful heir to Winterfell. Whatever claim he had, whatever any Lord in the North said, he wasn't Lord of Winterfell any longer.

Yet even with that, all Ned could do was watch the baby in front of him. He'd lost two siblings because of the war, and from it, he'd gained two nephews. Brandon and Lyanna taken from him cruelly, and left with their children.

"Brandon was to wed Cat," Ned whispered, looking up.

Ashara nodded. "It was never meant to happen, but I got pregnant, and Brandon insisted. He knew it'd hurt Catelyn, but he refused to condemn his son his right of being his true firstborn. So we married."

"Did you love him?"

Ned wasn't sure what he wanted to hear, but took a step back to brace himself.

"I did," Ashara confirmed, tears still falling. "But not the same way I loved you."

"Then how…"

"We'd drank a bit too much during the tourney one night and shared the night together. I wasn't sure what I was thinking as I knew it was wrong. We were stupid, and I'd planned on forgetting it all together."

Inhaling deeply, Ned eyed her hard. "Did you though? Did you really want to forget it?"

Ashara nodded slowly, eyeing her child. "For a time, but then I found out, and things changed. I regret what happened but not what came after. Brandon and I didn't love each other, that's true, but out of it, I got something I'd never thought I'd love this much. Your brother was a good man, and because of him, I have the most precious thing to me."

Orin cooed in her arm as Ned watched her look lovingly at her child. He'd yet to experience what it was like to be a father. He knew Robb was waiting at home for him, and there were many times he thought to just flee a go home to be with his family.

However now he had family in the south and he wasn't ready to leave them just yet.

"He's the rightful heir to Winterfell," Ned began.

Ashara's eyes darted upwards, an unseen anger lingering on her face. "I don't care."

"It's his right."

"I don't care what his bloody right is Ned, he's my son, he's staying here with me."

Watching her rise, Ned wondered the best way to go about this. "Brandon would have…"

"What Ned! What did Brandon want? For his son to grow up, become a Lord, and ride off to battle and get killed like the rest of them!"

"The war is over."

Ashara laughed miserably, as she tried to calm the fussy baby in her arms. "And how long will that last Ned. Robert Baratheon on the Iron Throne. How long will peace reign under the _watchful_ eye of good king Robert?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Why are you here Ned?" Ashara asked, wanting to forget this conversation.

The sword around his waist once again reminded him of his true purpose. Whatever had just passed between them could wait, as Ned readied himself. Carefully untying the sword, he pulled Dawn out of his sheath to present it to Ashara.

"Dawn," Ashara whispered. Carefully holding Orin, she reached out with her free hand to run his finger across her brother's sword. "Where's Arthur?"

He could have faced a thousand soldiers in the battlefield, and even then that would be the easier task then telling Ashara what had happened to her brother. There were many men Ned respected, but Ser Arthur had to be one of the tops.

Good till the very end, a trait most men did not possess.

"I'm so sorry," Ned whispered, taking a step closer to her.

"How?" Ashara asked, looking up at him. Ned wanted to speak, but the words died in his mouth as he watched Ashara's heart break in front of him. "Did he suffer?"

Remembering the knife in his back and the way Ser Arthur looked up, Ned shook his head, not wanting to do more damage to her. "He died honorably. Serving his prince like he'd sworn to do."

He died protecting the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, Ned thought, but couldn't bring himself to say it. He'd sworn to Lyanna, and that secret would follow him to the grave.

"There is no honor in death," Ashara said faintly. "They die, and it's over, and all were left with is that constant reminder."

"It's how you remember him Ashara. That's how he lives on."

"All I'll remember is the man I loved, the uncle to the person I love most, killed the one person I could depend on in this world. Isn't that a cruel fate?"

"Ashara…I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize Eddard. You fought on opposite sides and my brother understood that. I could easily be having this conversation with him about you. This war took so much from me. For the sake of your brother, and the respect you had for mine, please let me keep Orin. He's all I have now in this world."

Once again, Ned was faced with a difficult choice. Break whatever he believed to be right and true for the sake of a woman he loved. His nephew would never know who his father was, or take his rightful place in the North, but he'd have a mother, and one who cared deeply for him.

Going against his better judgment, Ned nodded.

"Will see each other again hopefully, during better times."

"I hope so."

"Good bye Ashara," Ned nodded at her before looking at the baby in her arms, the last memory of his older brother. "Goodbye Orin. Will meet again, I promise."


	2. Chapter 1

Thanks to those who took the time to start the story, hopefully you continue to enjoy it if you had. If anyone has any questions, feel free to ask, Also, thanks to those who reviewed...

EXOKaiKokoBop: It's funny to see someone shipping a character whose yet to say an actual word hahaha, will see down the line if Orin eventually gets to meet Dany...

C.E.W: This chapter is just a tiny glimpse into the past of Orins childhood to see how much he takes after his relatives (father, uncle). Also, do expect him to meet familiar Dornish characters as he is being raised in Dorne.

sexybutcreepy: Absolutely, isn't easy for Ned. Yet at this point he's married and has a family waiting back home. It still hurts, but in the end we know Ned has a happy life with his family.

Chapter 1

8 years later…

The brunt of the attack knocked his chest backwards as his legs gave way. Tumbling towards the ground, the painful impact jarred his senses. It wasn't easy failing over and over again, especially when each time seemed to get even more difficult. Yet that wasn't a good enough excuse to quit.

Finding whatever inner strength he had left, Orin managed to pick himself up hesitantly, lifting his sword to defend himself.

"You don't quit, do you Orin?" The master of arms Lewin said with a bemused smile. It almost looked like a bear smiling through its fur as Lewin's great beard covered most of his face. He wasn't a good man, nor a proper one, but he'd mastered the art of warfare in Westeros, so he was the best thing there was to offer.

"No, I don't," Orin lunged forward once more as their swords met.

The steel clashed violently as the two squared off. Once more Orin went on the attack like he was instructed to do so, and once more, Lewin had the advantage, as he seemed to know every more made before it was even made.

His dominant hand started to weaken as they sparred and he knew soon he'd feel the cold floor meet his back once more. Doing his best to keep straight, Orin's eyes drifted anywhere to find an advantage.

"Never wonder," Lewin screeched, seeing his eyes waver.

Orin saw the rare attack coming, and quickly dropped his sword and rolled to dodge it. Lewin's momentum carried him forward as Orin rolled past him. Sword on the floor, Lewin turned to finish him off but was met with a small dagger pressed against his gut as he turned.

"Wasn't smart of you to drop your sword," Lewin breathed.

Orin smiled on one knee as he looked up at the man. "I won't defeat my enemies by being predictable."

A clap broke out a few yards away as Orin turned towards it. Under the watchful eye from his mother, Ashara Dayne sat comfortable gazing at her son with attentive eyes. Beside her, Ser Conin Ashwood stood clapping with a bright smile on his face.

He never fought for recognition or applause, but watching Ser Conin stand there proudly looking on, Orin felt a sense of pride pass over him.

"He's good," Ser Conin remarked behind his smile.

He'd never had a son, or proper family, but was always thankful in the part he had in raising Orin. Unlike most boys, Ser Conin's job was very simple; protect Orin from anything or anyone who would come to harm him. It seemed odd, a knight acting as a glorified sitter, but there wasn't a place he'd rather be. He owed his life, his title, nearly everything he had, to the Dayne family, and protecting the future of it wasn't a burden, it was amongst the highest honor he could've possibly imagined.

Even if Orin wasn't an actual Dayne.

"Too good," Ashara whispered.

Ser Conin's brow furrowed as he looked down towards her. "My Lady?"

"Where did he get that knife Ser Conin?" Ashara asked, wondering where her son had pulled it.

"I do not know," Ser Conin admitted, a tiny smile on his face. "A very sneaky move, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, very unlike Arthur." Once again she watched as her son fought the master in arms and shuttered every time the blades met. "He's more and more like his father each day."

Ser Conin rarely heard Lady Dayne talk about the war and the losses she suffered from it. It'd been nearly outlawed in Starfall to mention Orin's father by name. Many still wondered whom he was, the truth only known to a handful of people.

"He was good man," Ser Conin finally said.

"He was," Ashara agreed, her eyes never leaving her son. "But I have no interest in watching my son follow his father into an early grave."

"My Lady…"

"That will be all Ser Conin," Ashara rose from her seat. "I'd like to take a walk with my son."

Ser Conin nodded instantly. "Of course My Lady."

Orin watched from afar as his mother made her towards him and Lewin. He knew she despised his training, or anything that involved combat. Yet here she always was, supporting him whenever he had practice.

"Lady Dayne," Lewin bowed, his face turning a bit red.

"Thank you for today's lessons Master Lewin, that will be all."

"Of course My Lady," Lewin said hurriedly before taking his leave.

Orin continued to watch as his master turned quickly to eye his mother. All he could do was roll his eyes as the man nearly tripped himself to catch a glimpse of the Lady of Starfall.

He knew many men watched his mother with lust filled eyes. Thankfully they knew better then to act upon those feelings. Ser Conin took great pleasure in enforcing any crude remarks directed his mother's way.

"Come love," She said, grabbing his hand to lead him away from his training area.

Together they walked hand in hand in the hot summer air through the gardens of Starfall. The river to there side, green as far as the eye can see, it truly was a peaceful place. Maybe it's why Orin had always found himself outside.

Since he could walk, he remembered hating the confides of the castle. There was no air to breathe, or place to run, or lake to swim. The outdoors was open and free, whereas the castle was closed off and controlled.

Two different lives.

Each his own.

"You're unhappy," Orin finally said, as the two stopped under a great oak tree.

"Am I?" Ashara smiled, sitting them down under the tree.

Orin nodded, knowing behind his mother's attempt to cover it up. "You don't approve of my training."

"You know I do…" Ashara began but was swiftly cut off.

"I'll stop." The two stared hard at each other, before Orin continued. "I never want to be the reason for you being unhappy."

Ashara smiled tearfully at him as she grabbed his face in her hands tenderly. "There are many reasons to be unhappy in this world. I wish to every god that I could protect you from facing that when you're older, but this I cannot do. But never think that you of all people can cause me to be unhappy. You are everything to me Orin. I never thought I could love something as much as I do you."

Orin smiled gratefully at his mother's words as they embraced.

"You will continue to train," His mother began, wiping away a single tear from her face. He would have protested but saw the stern look in her eyes. "You were right, I don't like your training. I hate the sounds the steel make, I hate the way your body hits the floor when you fall, and most of all the injuries that I clean before you go to bed."

"Then why continue?" Orin asked confused.

"Because you enjoy it," Ashara answered sadly. "You can lie to Ser Conin, or maester Talon, or even yourself, but you've never been good at lying to me."

"I'd never lie to you," Orin declared, almost horrified at the idea.

"I know," Ashara laughed, seeing the look of dread from the dishonor of lying to his mother. "Your uncle never lied to me. There are times I can hardly see him in you, and then you surprise me with the way you carry yourself just like him."

Rarely did his mother talk about his uncle, the legendary Ser Arthur Dayne. Stories and stories were all he heard growing up in Starfall about the kind of man his uncle was. It was almost easier to grow envious and hate the man from everything he'd accomplished. It was easier to hate someone then it was to admire them.

Yet all Orin could do each night before he went to sleep was stare longingly at his uncle's sword Dawn, and admire the life he lived. He was taught to be raised well and proper, and for ever long it took, he hoped one day, he could amount to half the man his uncle was.

"You never talk about him," Orin admitted, wondering how far he should push. "Or father."

It'd been a sore subject all his life, and one he never enjoyed pressing on about. Orin could have spent his life envying the kids around him who had a father, but his mother had filled the void left by him.

Besides, he was raised to believe that fighting in a war and dying for your cause was the honorable thing to do. Like his father had.

"Robert's rebellion took many things from me," His mother said, unable to look at him.

"Was he a good man?" Orin finally asked. "I don't even know his name."

"And one day you will," Ashara promised, getting up from her spot. "All you need to know now was that your father would be proud of you, as would your uncle."

"I expect earning the praise from the Sword of the Morning would have been a great thing to have."

Ashara smiled once more before helping her son up. Together, the two made there way back towards the castle for supper. The walk was quiet and calm and gave her time to reflect on her conversation with her son.

She'd wondered how long she could avoid talking about Orin's father with him. Each time she lied it broke a piece of her heart. Yet she kept telling herself she was doing it for all the right reasons.

A Stark has responsibilities, she'd say.

The Greyjoy rebellion was just a reminder that war could break out at anytime. Still, she knew the Lords of the North wouldn't expect her son of 9 years old to go and fight a war. They weren't savages, but still, Orin wouldn't be 9 forever.

He'd eventually be turned to for guidance and lead them in to battle. The mere thought sent a shock through her body as they passed into the halls of the castle.

Off in the distance, she could see their meal being laid out for them as others began to join them. She coasted along politely, doing her best not to ignore her people. Still, even as she sat, she thought about Orin's lost fate, and the life still to come for him.

She wasn't sure if peace would last, and as she began to eat, her eyes drifted upwards to the wall opposite of her where her brother's sword rested comfortably.

It'd been 8 years since someone swung the legendary Dawn, and gods be good, Ashara hoped it'd never come off the mantle it rested on again.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Present day…

Ashara paced back and forth debating her next cause of action. She hadn't left Dorne in years, nearly forgetting that there was still a world out there besides Starfall. Moments like this she was cruelly reminded that the world didn't stop moving outside her home and comfort. All she had to do to be reminded was watch her son, her baby boy, a man now at 17 years of age, roam around the castle.

Faced with a difficult decision, she dropped the message she'd received moments ago and went to search for her son. She hadn't decided how to act upon the news she'd received; hoping taking her mind off it would help her senses.

Walking through the castle walls she'd grown up, she was regarded every so often as she passed her people. It felt strange, she never thought she'd be Lady of Starfall growing up, a title most likely suited for a man. Ashara never thought she'd have any real power.

Her house wasn't large, but a prideful one, and well respected after so many years of being recognized. These people, her people, had been here her entire life. Helping raise her, teach her, being good to her, and now she ruled them.

It wasn't easy; in fact, it was the most difficult thing she'd ever come to face. Yet through the hardships and doubts, it'd been so rewarding. The people were good to her, treated her with respect, and for the most part, life had been simple in Starfall.

How tempting it would be to just never leave.

Finally reaching the outdoors, she spotted her closest ally and trusted friend Ser Conin head towards her mounted on his horse.

"My Lady," Ser Conin greeted her formally, like he did every morning.

"Good morning Ser Conin. I don't suppose you know where my son is off today?"

Ashara noticed the worried look etched on the knight's face. "I have an idea."

Paling at his tone, she asked dreadfully. "Where is he?"

* * *

Orin felt a breath on the back of his neck as he crouched low behind the wall supporting him. Had he not known full well who was beside him, his sword would have been drawn at the ready.

"Calm yourself," He whispered to his friend and trusted alley Rydan Barler.

Only a year younger then himself, Orin had known Rydan for almost 5 years now. Rydan's father, Randall Barler had come to Starfall as a smith hoping to continue his craft for house Dayne.

Being a constant consumer of the trade, Orin found himself in Randall's shop many times over the past few years. It didn't take long to become fast friends with Rydan, a boy hoping to become a knight just like so many at the time.

Regardless of being a Sand, Orin was the son of the Lady of Starfall, so he took it upon himself to take Rydan under his watchful eye. Unlike the rest of Westeros, despite being a bastard, Orin still had the power and opportunity to do so.

"I am calm," Rydan replied hastily.

"Then stop breathing down my bloody neck." Orin gave him a tiny push backwards, hoping to clear his head. Peering around the corner of the wall, he seized up the men inside once more.

He'd come to a dangerous place, a place his mother would quickly disapprove of, but he had no choice. The men inside the room laughing and drinking had committed a great crime, one that could not go unpunished.

It hadn't taken him long to find the men, he'd known them in passing from a nearby village. They weren't the type of men Orin liked, or respected, but without a reason, he couldn't confront them.

That changed the day before when a father of two came to the castle to beg for assistance from Lady Dayne. His mother, calm and reserved, listened to the man's pleas for justice for the beating and rape of his two daughters, and had condemned the action and promised justice as swiftly as possible.

Afterwards, alone with her guards, she'd doubled patrols around the castle walls and sent a few men around neighboring towns to seek out the men who committed the crimes.

Orin had pleaded to allow himself to help with the search, knowing full well he could help snuff them out. It didn't take long to figure out after the father's description of the men. Orin had been waiting for them to slip for a long time, practically memorizing their smug faces. He just wished he'd had a reason to bring them in long before they violated the father's children.

He couldn't take away that painful memory, but he could make sure it never happened again.

Yet his mother wouldn't listen. She trusted the men she'd sent to serve justice and that would be the end of it. She refused to let her son take up arms around the towns searching for men cruel enough to do unspeakable things.

Orin appreciated the sentiment of her trying to protect him, but if he had it in him to help, he had to believe he would.

"You sure about this," Rydan asked yet again since they left earlier this morning.

"Shhh," Orin hushed him. "Listen."

The closest man to them laughed heavily, the smell of ale lifting in the air. "Aye she was a pretty one. Great tits, firm ass, almost makes me wish we took her for good."

"If I recall, you took her long enough," Another one bellowed loudly.

The group of 4 men cheered once more as Orin's anger rose. He felt Rydan's hand grab his as he looked down to see his friend stopping him from grabbing his sword.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Rydan asked, knowing whatever happened next would change things.

"They made their choice Rydan, now we make ours."

Unsheathing his sword, Orin quickly turned from behind the wall to face the men sitting down. There faces held confusion for a few seconds before they could even realize what was happening.

"Whatcha doing sneaking around back there huh," One of them asked, a sneer firmly planted on his face.

"Looking for you," Orin replied, holding his sword high. "The four of you are charged with the rape of two young girls, and I'm here to see you pay for it."

The four men stayed silent, sizing him up, before they broke out in laughter.

"Off with you boy, before I kill ya myself and leave Taver here to fuck your corpse," One of the men said, gesturing to his friend. Turning back, he eyed Rydan. "And take that twat with ya."

Orin ignored their laughter and jests, keeping his hands tight around his hilt. "Come along easy, and I won't kill you myself."

The nearest one, an older looking man with no hair and a bad leg rose angrily to charge him. Kicking the nearest chair, Orin watched the man tumble onto it in a drunken state. All of them were piss drunk and weaponless as Orin turned to the other three.

Dropping his sword, Rydan joined him as the three others rose from their seats.

"Are you mad?" Rydan shouted, lifting his sword.

"I'm not going to kill a defenseless man."

"Don't think they feel the same."

The three men charged as the two of them fought them off. Orin saw from the corner of his eye Rydan swing his sword as the closest one, Taver, but he wasn't far enough for the blade to do any damage. The hilt of the sword hit his head, opening a wide gash.

"Come here you little cunt," One of the two men left said charging Orin.

Unsure which to hit first, the two tackled Orin to the floor, trying to get the upper hand. He shifted as their weight crushed him, trying to free one of his hands.

"I'll gut you boy!"

Freeing his right hand, Orin swung upwards, feeling the mans nose break under his fist. Blood shot out; covering his face as he rolled away after the man fell back.

The other man, trying to help his friend up, took his eyes off as Orin kicked him back, knocking down the first man who'd just gotten up from the chair that had knocked him down. The two fell once more; leaving the one Rydan had left.

Orin watched his friend stumble back from a hit to the face and ran to stop another.

Grabbing Taver around, he knocked him towards the grown with a heavy thump. He tried the move, but Orin didn't let up, sending a fury of punches at the mans face. Hit after hit, he watched the mans face bruise and bloody from the attacks, feeling the sense of life leave him.

He deserved death, and Orin could give it to him. It would be so easy. All he would have to do is keep hitting the back of his head, and it'd be over.

Realizing his thought, his hand froze mid punch, looking down at the unconscious face of Taver. In an instant, he'd crossed a line, and nearly killed a man.

Rising to his feet, Orin looked at the four men grown and cower on the floor in pain. They'd caught them, but at what cost.

Before he could think longer on it, the doors of the front of the tavern opened and inside came the city watch. Orin couldn't count as the guards rushed them, tackling the four men while holding out their swords.

As quick as it ended, Ser Conin strode into the tavern, his mother hot on his heels as the two searched for him.

"Take these men to the cells," Ser Conin ordered, eyeing the 4 drunks.

"Little shit," The drunk with the broken nose spat, eyeing him. The guards dragged him past the door, right by his mother as he turned. "Aye you're a pretty one."

Orin lunged forward only to be caught from Ser Conin arm, holding him back as he watched the man get dragged off laughing.

"Take Rydan back to his father," Ashara spoke to her guards. "Ser Conin, please make sure Randall disciplines his son accordingly."

"I will My Lady," Ser Conin said, turning to Rydan. "Come along now."

Orin stepped forward, seeing his friend's defeated look. "It's my fault. I forced him to come."

His mother turned to him, her anger fully displayed. "You forced your friend to fight for you? He could have died."

"He forced nothing My Lady," Rydan pleaded as Ser Conin guided him outside. "I chose to follow him."

His mother watched as his friend left the tavern, leaving him and her with a few of the remaining guards. "Leave us."

Without another word, they followed the orders given, leaving mother and son alone. Orin could see the disappointment on her face, and felt terrible. It was the cruel consequence of him doing the right thing, something that was never easy.

"You could have died," She whispered, not once moving from her spot across the room. "Rydan could have died."

"They were 4 drunks," Orin countered. He waved his hands around, trying to prove his case. "4 drunk men, unarmed, and untrained. What harm could possibly happen?"

"What if one of them had a knife?"

"I know how to defend myself."

Finally stepping closer, Orin could see the tears on his mothers face. "Just because you own a sword, doesn't give you leave to swing it."

"I don't carry it because I want to mother, I carry it because I need too."

"That need will soon find yourself in a fight you can't run from or have Ser Conin save you from. You're not a boy anymore Orin. This isn't a sparring session with Lewin. There are dangerous people out there, far more dangerous then 4 drunken men I can assure you."

Orin understood her reasoning, he truly did, but he couldn't see it that way. "Those 4 drunken men raped two girls a fortnight ago. Do you think their father cares who serves justice for them? You raised me to do the right thing, but I cannot sit idly by when I have it in me to _do_ the right thing."

He could see the struggle on her face as she wrestled at what to say next. He hated challenging her; it went against everything he believed in. His mother was the most important person to him, and he betrayed her trust.

"You broke my direct order to leave it be," She finally said.

"And I'm willing to pay for it," He answered truthfully.

She smiled sadly at him before stepping closer. Grabbing his hand in hers, she spoke softy. "I can't protect you forever. I just wish you weren't so eager to give your life for others. I know that makes me terrible, but you're everything to me. I don't want to lose you."

"I know."

Pulling him into a tight embrace, Orin's features relaxed in the comfort of his mother's familiar touch. He never wanted to have to make the choice between doing the right thing and hurting his mother, knowing whatever he chose, would break him.

"I have news from the capital," She whispered to him.

Orin pulled back, the words foreign to him. "The capital?"

She smiled up at him, a light in her eyes. "We ride for Kings Landing. It's time you met someone very important to me."


	4. Chapter 3

EXOKaiKokoBop: Ashara is a very important part of this story and Orin's journey through it, so you will see more of her.

sexybutcreepy: Thank you, You'll find that out in this chapter.

Dipsyy: To get Dawn you have to be a knight and a Dayne, which Orin is neither. But stick around, the sword is very important in future chapters for Orin.

C.E.W: Thanks for the correction, I fixed Orin's age to 17 so that it matches the timeline in the story. I didn't want to have Ned come down to Kings Landing before his appointment, and I wanted to insert Orin straight into the story rather then wait two years.

To everyone else who may have a question, feel free to ask, any requests or suggestions are also welcome, and if not, hopefully you enjoy the rest of the story.

* * *

Chapter 3

Orin felt free as he rode his horse down the road. Clear sky above him, open fields far bigger then anything back home, he was seeing new places for the first time and taking it all in. It wasn't as warm here then it was in Dorne, but still a wonder to see.

He'd heard many stories of how vastly disappointing Kings Landing and the lands would be, but so far, he'd yet to experience that. He supposed that was just because of the bad blood between Dorne and the capital, but Orin wouldn't be blinded by that. Today he would see all the legendary things he'd read about growing up. The throne his uncle once guarded, the castle Aegon lived in, the Great Sept, he'd see it all, by the Hands invitation.

Turning towards his mother, who rode quietly beside him, he wondered about her past. It'd been a quiet two-week travel after he'd broken her trust in Starfall, and he had hoped to move past it before they arrived.

Quite frankly he was surprised she invited him to the capital. Nothing would have been more degrading then losing the chance at coming because of a tavern scrap with four drunk men.

Still, looking past his misstep back home, it was a little curious for a Dornish family to get an invite from the Hand of the king.

"How'd you know him?" Orin finally asked. They were far enough back from their guards to speak freely.

"Know who?" Ashara replied, playing coy.

"I think you know who I mean."

His mother turned to him with a knowing look. "I never assume anything, people in my position don't last very long when they do."

"You're in your position because you're smart," Orin countered. "Starfall is yours for good reason."

Ashara laughed. "Flattery won't make up for what you did."

"I suppose not. Still, that doesn't answer my question."

Her past had been a sore subject, but seeing as how it was inevitable to be brought up coming to a place like Kings Landing, Orin suspected it was a good enough reason to dig into the past.

And more specifically, his.

"Lord Eddard Stark is an old friend," His mother started, looking back towards the road. "I never thought to see him again, being the Warden of the North, and us being so south. Different lives with different responsibilities."

It wasn't hard to know of Eddard Stark's name. Robert's Rebellion had etched his name into every story kids would grow up on, one of the great men who rebelled against the Mad King.

His honor and history was practically unrivaled. A great man to so many, a proud one, yet the man who killed his uncle.

It was the only thing he thought of reading the stories as a child. This warrior, this honorable person, had beaten the greatest swordsman ever known and deprived him of ever meeting his family.

He couldn't hate a man he'd never met. He just wasn't sure how he'd react meeting the man who brought so much pain to his mother.

"Friend?" Orin repeated. It was an odd term to use for someone like that. "He killed my uncle."

"He did."

"How can you consider him a friend then?" He asked, a bit puzzled by the notion.

His mother turned to him swiftly, looking at him with sadness and anger all in one. "Tell me something Orin, if you made a vow to protect someone no matter the cost, and another made a vow to kill that person because of the harm and tragedy they brought to their family, what would you do? Is there still a good man and bad one? Who decides when their vow is more important then another."

Orin did not have an answer as his mother continued.

"Lord Stark fought to avenge his family, and Arthur fought protecting the family that caused that turmoil. There was no right and wrong. They fought believing in their cause. When do we get to decide what a man chooses to believe in?"

Her words rang through him as they continued towards the castle. He'd always thought the stories were simple. There were bad men, and good, and good prevailed and they would be the ones who many looked up to and praised.

It was simple to see it that way, it's the way he viewed it all his life. Yet hearing his mother speak about who decides what's right and wrong, it changed things.

Lord Stark did not murder his uncle. They fought on opposite sides, man to man, swords in their hands. How could he possibly condone a man for fighting for his family?

Given the chance, he'd do the same for his mother.

* * *

She couldn't remember the last time she'd been in the capital. Everything felt so strange and foreign as Ashara walked around taking it all in. It was odd to see the Direwolf sigil hanging around at the celebration for Ned's newest appointment.

Incredible things had happened in her life, but never did she think she'd see the day of Eddark Stark becoming Hand to the king. Perhaps it made some sense, Ashara did know of Ned and Roberts friendship growing up.

She got to witness it firsthand at the tourney of Harrenhal all those years ago, the tourney that changed everyone's life in the realm.

Watching her son from afar, it changed hers more then she thought possible.

It was a curious thing to watch as her son took in the sights and spectacles of Kings Landing. To the unsuspecting eye, she could agree that the capital had a certain appeal to it. Although knowing the horrors to come from it, she could never imagine living here.

Turning towards the Red Keep, Ashara's eyes wavered slightly, remembering the story of Brandon's death. She couldn't imagine a crueler way to die, then watching a son strangle himself to death trying to save his dying father.

She wondered if Arthur ever questioned his oath protecting a man that could be capable of such cruelty. Did her brother ever wonder if he made the right choice? Did he ever think, this is where it ends?

The Mad King had been responsible for taking away her sons father, in this very city, and that fact alone made her question why she had even come in the first place.

She knew the answer; in fact, she spotted it walking towards her as the festivities carried on. It'd been 15 long years, but she could still see the boy she fell in love with all those years ago.

Ned Stark still looked the same as he did all those years ago. Dressed in clothing meant for the harsh winters in the north, and not the cool summer breeze in the south, Ashara wondered how deep that Northern stubbornness truly went. His hair a bit longer, and a couple scars littered across the face, but still Ned Stark. His kind eyes gave him away.

"My Lady," Ned smiled kindly at her.

"Lord Stark," She returned, feeling herself smile like she hadn't in years. She knew it was foolish to even think upon the notion, with Ned being married, and she having a son, but Ashara would always wonder what if. "Thank you for the invitation, it was very kind."

Ned smiled, one of his few since he'd been in the capital. "I did not expect for you to come, considering."

"Yes well I made a promise to you many years ago," Ashara admitted. Her eyes drifted off to her son, standing a few yards behind Ned's back.

Ned's eyes widened at her words, knowing what it meant. "Does he…"

"Know? No," She said sternly. "And I plan on keeping it that way."

Ned looked disappointed. "He should know Ashara, even just to know his true father."

"You don't think I contemplate that every waking day before I see him. That today is the day I tell my son that I robbed him of his name, his titles, and his right to know his father? I made a choice Ned to make my son carry on thinking his father died bravely in the war and be remembered that way, then the horrible nightmares I endured of imagining Brandon's body in that throne room. I have to live with that, right or wrong. All I ask is that you respect that."

"He's my nephew."

"He is," Ashara's face softened at his sad tone. She knew how important family was to Starks, especially Ned. "But there are other ways to be there for him. Like Jon Arryn was for you and Robert."

Thinking hard on it, Ned could only nod. Truth be told, he was a little impatient, just wanting to meet his nephew finally.

"Can I meet him?" Ned asked.

"Of course."

"My Lord," A man interrupted them. Ashara vaguely remembered the man's face but for the life of her, couldn't put a name to it. "The king would like a word."

"Thank you Jory," Ned sent the man off quickly before turning to her. "My Lady, a moment please."

"My Lord," Ashara smiled, watching Ned head off.

Alone again, she wondered how Ned could possibly do it; rule in the place that caused him so much grief. She expected that was one of the qualities she most admired about Ned, his duty to do the right thing.

Yet it reminded her of another person with that same sense of duty, only this one didn't have the calm demeanor Ned had. Each day that passed her son became more like a Stark. It was a wonder she'd been able to keep Orin in check so far for all these years.

He had his fathers hot head, but in moments like this, when people were happy and in a festive mood, all she could see was Ned all those years ago.

They didn't have many parties to celebrate back home, or the type of Lords and Ladies that walked around now, so as she watched her son nearby stare off shyly wondering what to do or where to go, it brought a smile to her face.

She could practically see her baby boy again, lost and confused, needing his mothers help all over again.

"Very handsome boy," A voice broke, startling her. Turning towards it, she was met with a very familiar face and two kings guards flanked on each side. "Although that shouldn't be a surprise coming from a great beauty like yourself."

Cersei Lannister stood proudly smiling towards her as she looked at her knowingly. Ashara hadn't seen her since Harrenhal, but the years had still been kind to her. Like a queen should, she looked regal and beautiful at the same time. She could see why many men were infatuated and women envious of her.

Remembering whom she was talking to, Ashara greeted her properly. "My Queen."

Cersei smiled. "Lady Dayne, how good to see you after so long."

Ashara heard the kind words but felt no warmth come from them. "It has been a long time your grace."

"Truth be told, I did not expect to see any Dornish today, curious that you're here."

Ashara nodded, knowing all to well how rare it was for Dornish to come to the capital. "When the Hand of the King sends an invitation, it's best to accept I would imagine."

"Yes well good of you to come at the Hands request," Cersei stepped closer, a glint in her eyes. "It must be strange, last time you were here one of your dear friends was queen."

The haunting memory of Elia Martell passed through her as she remembered another great horror to come from this wretched place. She could see the queen baiting her, but did her best to nod. She felt just saying her name would break her.

"Great tragedy," Cersei continued. "Still, Dorne did side with the Mad King. So I suppose it could be considered a consequence of war."

Ashara had known the history of the war down to every detail, but knew without a doubt, that the murder of her closest friend and her children was not a consequence of war. It was murder, and one that went unpunished.

Doing her best to compose herself, Ashara smiled. "Well we all can't get to pick and choose who we serve during a time of war, even in the final moments of it. Thankfully, the realm is in peace thanks to the watchful eye of you and your husband."

Cersei smiled at the remark, but did not forget that slight before hand. Turning back towards her earlier sight, she gestured towards the boy. "Your son?"

Turning, Ashara spotted Orin still standing where she'd left him, looking on quietly. "Yes."

"If I hadn't met Lord Starks bastard at Winterfell not to long ago, I swear I would imagine that to be him," Cersei remarked. She turned back, hoping to get her off guard. "It was quite obvious back then for the torch you held for him. Shame nothing came of it."

"I suppose we share that it common," Ashara shot back, her anger starting to creep up. "Prince Rhaegar was very handsome, still King Robert definitely has an appeal. You must have thought so to share three children with him."

Cersei's smile dropped as she eyed her carefully. "His name?"

"Orin Sand," Ashara replied, a small smile creeping up at her son's name.

"Sand," Cersei repeated. Ashara can practically here the disdain in her voice. "How unfortunate that a great family like House Dayne's future is lost because of a bastard boy. Still, you must have great love for the boy to keep him so close in court."

"His name does not change the love I have for him," Ashara said truthfully. She hated the way people looked at them in this place, but did her best to ignore it. "He isn't a bastard in my eyes, he's my son."

"Of course," Cersei smiled, turning back towards him. "And his father?"

"Dead," She answered tightly.

"How terrible." Her remark held no remorse as Cersei gave her one last look. "Do enjoy your stay in the capital Lady Dayne. However brief it is."

"Your Grace."

The queen smiled one last time before continuing on to the next person to torture. However many years past, Cersei Lannister would always remain the same. Her lord father would be proud the way she carried herself, like everyone else was beneath her.

Yes the Lannisters were no friends to Ashara, but alas there was nothing else to do. They were part of the crown now, and she was just thankful that Starfall was so far away from this place and their kind.


	5. Chapter 4

C.E.W: He won't be participating in any of the events. Since he's considered a 'bastard', he won't be. Also, you get a little insight into his thoughts on the tourney itself.

Dipsyy: Will be a difficult part to write, could go many ways, but it's obvious which way you want it to go hahaha. Hopefully that's for story reasons and not because you hate Ashara.

* * *

Chapter 4

It must have been a marvel for those to watch as famous knights from around the realm battled in front of the king to see who was the best. Orin could understand the honor it held, but for the life of him, he couldn't see the appeal. Watching two men charge at each other, lances at the ready, and attempt to knock each other off wasn't battle. It was two men playing at one.

He supposed that was his mothers doing, teaching him from a young age that fighting wasn't meant to be enjoyable. It was a costly consequence of war, and one that shouldn't be taken as a jest.

Still, seeing all these famous houses, and legendary knights was a sight to take in. He'd yet to meet any personally, but was sure to have a few words before the nights end.

Honestly he felt a little lost walking around the Hand's tourney. He'd given his mother time alone to see all the Lords and Ladies she knew from her past, and thought better then to be by her side, being a bastard.

He couldn't understand why the rest of the world didn't follow under Dorne's example when it came to being a bastard. They weren't spiteful monsters or ugly deformities. They were people, same as the fancy ones walking around. Yet unfortunately opinions mattered, especially in a place like this.

Doing his best to fit in, Orin walked around hoping to find his mother. He'd thought he saw her talking to the queen a few moments ago but she'd disappeared soon after. Venturing deeper into the outdoor party, Orin came upon a curious sight that no one seemed to notice.

A few yards away, with no one nearby, a small girl was giving chase to a cat.

He wasn't sure if maybe a commoner had snuck inside trying to catch her cat, but it was amusing nevertheless. She couldn't have been older then ten as she slowly crept towards the unsuspecting cat. The animal was perched calmly on a bench minding its own before the girl leapt forward.

Falling onto the floor, the girl looked down hoping to see the cat, but was disappointed at the result. Vanishing as quickly as the eye could see, the cat was gone, and all that remained was the defeated look of the girl.

Orin felt himself smile as he watched her rise, her defeated face gone, replaced with something he would assume would look like determination.

"He's too quick for you," Orin said, catching the girl off guard.

She eyed him hard, trying to size up what he wanted. "Who are you?"

"Just an observer," He answered coyly. "The cats too quick."

"I can catch it," She said boldly. "I'm quick."

Orin eyed her tiny frame with a smile. "I don't doubt it. But you don't need to be quicker then the cat, only smarter."

"How'd you mean?" She asked, her hostility replaced with curiosity.

"Animals aren't as smart as us, well most of us, so they rely on being quicker to survive."

"And?"

Her impatient made Orin laugh. "And, you aren't going to catch an animal that relies on its strength. You need to use yours. Don't fall into his trap, set your own."

"And what do you know of catching cats!" The girl demanded.

Orin shrugged. "Nothing really, just a suggestion is all."

Once more the girl eyed him, wondering whether or not to trust his word. It took a moment, but her face relaxed before stepping closer. "I'm Arya."

"Good to meet you Arya," Orin bowed, remembering his manners to a lady, commoner or not. "I'm Orin…"

"The sword of the morning," A voice broke in, interrupting the two of them.

Orin turned towards the person responsible and was met with a startling sight. He'd seen him from afar perched in his seat next to his royal family, but up close, the prince of the crown was a different sight to see.

Joffrey Baratheon stood smiling at him a few feet away.

His father was said to be a daunting warrior in his youth and when Orin saw the king for the first time, he was a little disappointed. Clearly his son followed in his stead, as regal as the prince looked in his fancy clothes, he was a little underwhelming in Orin's eyes.

Still, he was to be the future king, so Orin's opinion did not matter.

"I did not think the rumors to be true but here you stand," The prince continued, stepping closer to him. He gestured to his much taller companion. "This is Ser Arthur Dayne's nephew dog, the greatest swordsman who ever lived. Heard he was even better then my uncle."

"It's an honor to meet you my prince," Orin greeted, discretely eyeing the man known as the Hound next to him.

"Yes I imagine it is," Joffrey smiled, eyeing his sword. "Is that the legendary Dawn?"

He saw the princes eyes widen at the thought but shook his head. "No unfortunately, I'm not a knight, or a Dayne. I'll never wield that sword in this lifetime."

"Pity." The prince's eyes turned towards Arya who'd slowly walked away after giving the prince a glare. Orin noticed the angry look pass between them but said nothing. Looking back at him, the prince gestured to his own sword. "Perhaps we can come to an agreement one day, I'd enjoy wielding Dawn if no one else would."

Orin's face kept smiling but his insides turned at the thought. "I'm sure it would suit you my prince, but I'm afraid that day will never happen. The sword is passed down to only those worthy of it from house Dayne."

Joffrey's smiled dropped slightly. "You don't think I'm worthy? Perhaps we should see how well you use yours and figure out which one of us is truly worthy."

Smile gone, Orin stepped to the challenge. "Nothing would bring me more pleasure then sparring with the crown prince."

"It won't be pleasurable when you lose."

"Perhaps," Orin thought of the prospect. "Or perhaps you will."

"Careful boy," The Hound gritted, stepping closer, hand on hilt.

Orin eyed the man and his towering size, knowing full well he'd probably die right here and now given the command. Realizing his position and his rudeness, he lowered his slightly.

"Apologies," Orin said truthfully.

"For what?" The group turned to see Jaime Lannister, uncle to the prince, walk towards them, with a smug smile on his face. He eyed the Hound knowingly. "You'd threaten a man who believes in his ability to fight?"

"I'd threaten a man willing to attack the prince," The Hound answered.

Jaime smiled, turning to his nephew. "You challenged him, didn't you? I'd imagine that'd be quite an entertaining fight. Crown prince against Ser Arthur Dayne's nephew."

Orin could only watch as the legendary Ser Jaime Lannister scolded the prince like a mother does her child.

"Best find your mother Joffrey," Jaime continued, turning to him finally. "We don't want either of you getting hurt."

Orin watched as Joffrey eyed his uncle angrily before stomping off. The Hound followed suit, leaving Jaime alone. The knight eyed him with curiosity and a small smile on his face. Orin knew the stories, the Kingslayer, but refused to acknowledge them out of respect.

"You don't look much like him," Jaime finally said. "I suppose you take after your father."

Covered in his kings guard armor, Orin wondered if this is what he uncle use to look like. Proud and regal looking, Jaime Lannister seemed to embody the look of what a knight should be. Did his uncle carry himself the same way he wondered?

"I wouldn't know," Orin answered, remembering the emptiness filled by his father. "He died before I could meet him."

"So I heard," Jaime answered, giving no sentiment to his loss. "Must have been a great man to court your mother. The great beauty, Ashara Dayne."

"She is." He knew many looked at his mother in such ways, he just didn't realize to what extent. Even in the capital men would trip and watch as Ashara Dayne walked among them.

"Your uncle loved her very much," Jamie continued, stepping closer. "Greatest swordsman I've ever seen."

Orin knew the stories, but only through the books he read. "My mother never talks about him."

He hated that he needed to rely on a stranger to understand his family. It was almost embarrassing that the people around him knew his family more then he did. It was a big joke to see Ser Arthur Dayne's nephew prance around not knowing anything.

"I imagine she wouldn't," Jaime pondered, thinking hard on it. "Still to this day can't believe Ned Stark bested him in a fight, of all people."

"He was a great swordsman as well." Orin didn't know what compelled him to defend the man, but just knew it to be true.

Jaime smiled at the thought. "In his youth. Now, now I wouldn't imagine the Hand would last very long."

For that he had no answer, never seeing any of these great warriors actually fight. It was one thing to read and listen, but like almost everything, it changed once it was in the moment. If his uncle was truly the best, then he should have won.

It was never that simple.

"And you?" Jaime gestured to his sword. "Do you know how to use it? Perhaps like your uncle."

The shadow of Arthur Dayne kept growing as he looked down. "I was trained to be smart when I fight. Thinking I'm as great as my uncle is a very quick way to die."

He watched the knight smile brightly at his answer. "Maybe you do take after him. Maybe one day will find out. Enjoy the rest of the party."

Without another word, Orin watched Ser Jamie leave him as he pondered his thoughts. A tiny glimpse into his uncle past was as much as he assumed he'd get from these people. No one ever gave away much in this city.

Realizing he wasn't alone, he turned around wondering where Arya had run off. He almost forgot that the little girl had been there, but remembered the look that past between her and the prince.

Spotting her around another tent, Orin walked up to her quickly, before someone else came to gloat in the fact that they knew his family better then he did.

"You ran off," He remarked.

Arya smiled, still looking for the cat. "Told you I was quick."

She had him there.

"Can I ask why you're trying to catch a cat? Did you lose him?"

Arya turned back to him, wondering if she could trust him. He seemed friendly enough, unlike most people around this horrible city. "I'm training."

Orin suspected. "For what?"

"To be a water dancer."

He noticed the look she gave him as she said it, wondering if he knew what it meant. Most wouldn't at least not in Westeros, but Lewin had mentioned many different types of styles when they trained all those years. He never learned it, but knew all about the way some fought across the Narrow Sea.

"How come a girl so young is training to fight?" Orin wondered.

Arya's features hardened at the question. "Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I can't fight. My father is a great swordsman, just as your uncle was. I can be strong too."

Orin raised his hands, trying to calm the girl, albeit a little amused at her outburst. "I don't doubt it. My mothers the strongest person I know."

His answer caught her off guard as she stepped back taking it in. She looked like she was about to say something clever but thought against it. Instead, her eyes widened, looking past him.

"Father."

Confused Orin turned, only to come face to face with the Hand of the King.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The two eyed each other, a million thoughts passing through each of them, and both vastly different from the other.

Ned was the first to speak as he looked towards his daughter. "Can you give us a moment Arya?"

Arya eyed the two, a little confused before nodding. She was curious as to what would be said but still had her he training to do. Besides, she was sure whatever was said wouldn't interest her all that much.

Orin stood a little frozen as the Hand of the King looked back to him. Here he stood, face to face with the second most powerful man in the kingdom. He never thought he'd actually get to meet the Hand after his invitation. He'd assumed it was done as a good gesture.

"My Lord," Orin bowed.

Ned watched a little startled. Here he was, eyeing the last living memory if his elder brother Brandon, and he stood frozen. It was almost like looking into the past and seeing Brandon once more. Unlike any of his boys, Orin stood tall, well above Robb and even himself. He couldn't see much of the typical Northern features. His hair was cut short, as was his beard, probably because of the warm summer heat in Dorne. Like his mother, his eyes were almost violet, but he could still see Brandon in him. He was large for his age, far larger then he ever was at 17, but again, he wasn't his son.

Brandon had never been a boy. His large frame, fine features, and hot head, made him grow up too fast. He would have been a feared leader, but a loved one, Ned imagined. He wondered if the boy bowing in front of him would turn out like his father.

The boy had no need to bow, not when it was he who should be. The true heir to Winterfell stood in front of him, and he'd gone on pretending all these years as if the title belonged to him.

"I've wanted to meet you for some time Orin," Ned finally spoke, his voice thick with emotion. He did his best to remember Ashara's request. "I see you've met my youngest daughter."

Orin felt foolish for not knowing he was actually talking to a Lady all this time. "I have. She's a clever girl, not like the others around here."

"Aye, she is," Ned agreed, thinking of another as well. "Your mother and her share that same quality."

"She's spoken very highly of you," Orin replied. "All things considered."

It wasn't meant as a slight, but the words came tumbling out of his mouth before he even realized it. Insulted the prince, now the Hand, Orin wondered what stupid thing he'd say to the king next before they had him killed for speaking his mind.

"Your uncle was the truest knight I'd ever seen," Ned admitted. He could see the pain the boy had in his eyes. "I'm sorry you never got to know him."

"War doesn't leave us very much does it," Orin noticed, knowing the Hands tragic past as well. He hadn't realized it, but the two shared a lot in common. Both lost a great deal of family because of it, their fathers included. "How do you cope with it?"

Ned's eyes widened a bit at the off question.

"I'm sorry My Lord, I didn't mean to over step," Orin apologized.

"That's alright lad," Ned smiled, seeing so much of his brother in him. Thinking hard on the question, he didn't know how to answer. "It's different for everyone."

"And for you?" Orin pressed. For some reason he needed to know what pushed Eddark Stark to keep going.

"Justice," Ned answered simply. "Justice for my family. For the one I lost, for the one I still have. You won't find much happiness thinking about the dead, you never will, but you can give them justice. Even in death."

Orin soaked in his words.

He'd never find justice in his loss. His father and uncle weren't murdered; they were a causality of war. It made sense that a code of justice kept Lord Stark going, but Orin would have to find his own purpose. Avenging his family wasn't possible, unless he planned on killing the Hand of the King right here right now, which he had no intention on doing.

No, now he was learning a whole different side of things. Perhaps his mother was right, maybe Ned Stark was different then he'd imagined. Bad men didn't seek justice, they sought for vengeance, and Ned Stark didn't seem like that kind of a man.

Still, if his mother could trust the man and consider him a close friend, he must have been true to the stories. His mother had always been an excellent judge of character.

"My mother never told me about my father," Orin admitted, hoping maybe the Hand knew something he didn't. "Not even the side he fought for. If he rebelled or if he defended the Mad King? I have the comfort knowing my uncle died upholding the vow he swore, but my father, I'll never know."

Even thinking of his brother's death haunted Ned. All those years past and he still couldn't move past it. How could he possibly tell his nephew the cruel and tragic way his father died? As much as Brandon thought he was doing the honorable thing, his death was a catalyst that brought the country to war.

He'd come to accept that, but would his son? Could a boy, who knew nothing of his real past, accept the way his father died and live with it. Ned felt the words die in his throat as he begged himself to tell the truth and be done with it.

"I'm sorry," Ned cursed himself for not being strong enough to say what he wanted. "I'm sure he would have been very proud."

"Not likely," Orin admitted with a frown. He remembered the way he looked down on that drunk, ready to end his life. Wanting to end his life. He never wanted something so much as he did then. "I haven't done anything meaningful to earn it."

Ned grimaced, wondering if Jon ever felt so lost as well.

"There you are."

Ashara spotted the two of them and quickly made her way over. Surrounded by so many strangers, she took comfort of the sight of her son and one true person she could trust here in the capital.

"Everything all right?" Ashara asked the two, but mostly towards Ned.

Ned tried to compose himself as he nodded his head. "You raised a proper boy."

"Thank you Lord Stark," Ashara smiled, slipping her hand around her sons arm. "Hopefully he hasn't taken too much of your time."

"Course not," Ned said quickly. He realized she wanted some time with her son. "Well, best be off. Lady Dayne, Orin."

Orin noticed the small smile his mother gave to him as he left but said nothing. Truth be told, he was glad she found him. It'd been quite some time since he'd seen a familiar face.

"Enjoying your stay in the capital?" His mother asked as she guided him along.

He thought hard about it, before shrugging. "A very different experience then I imagined. What about you?"

Ashara's eyes looked around, almost searching for someone. "I'll be glad when we return home. Too many Lords and Ladies who think they're better then everyone else."

"That's why they're Lords and Ladies," Orin joked.

"I suppose," Ashara smiled, still eyeing her surroundings. "As much as I hate when you put yourself at risk, you do it for the good of the people. Not just the Lords or Ladies, but the people. Perhaps if more men carried themselves the same way you did, the world would be a better place."

Always knowing what to say was a rare talent, but one his mother carried gracefully. Still, there was a deeper meaning in her kind words. "The realms at peace."

"It is," Ashara agreed. "For now."

* * *

Ashara hadn't planned on staying very long, but she thought it was best to talk to Ned before leaving the next day. A small conversation wasn't enough for him, and after everything he'd been through, she owed him much more.

Unfamiliar with the castle walls after so long, Ashara was glad that Jory, commander of Ned's personal guard, had been kind enough to escort her to the Hands chambers.

The castle walls held such history as she was guided through them. Beautiful towering pillars holding it together, gorgeous views from every balcony, the throne room that held nearly every great man and women in the history of the 7 kingdoms, and all Ashara could think of was how glad she was to leave.

Knocking on the door, Ashara heard Ned speak before Jory opened the door for her. She didn't know what to expect, but seeing Ned pack his things would have been the last thing.

"Is this a bad time?" Ashara asked, a little confused.

Ned eyed her, before turning to Jory. "Leave us Jory."

"My Lord."

She watched as he continued around the room, grabbing whatever he could. "Ned, what's happening?"

"I'm leaving," He answered simply.

Ashara stood shocked, wondering what had happened. "What do you mean?"

Stopping his pace, Ned gazed outside at the sunny sky. "I can't rule from a place like this Ashara. The choices they make, the people who I rule over. None of it's right."

Ashara stepped deeper into the room. "So make it right. Show them the way."

Smiling at her belief in him, Ned couldn't manage it. "I've come to a dangerous place, and in doing so I put my children in harms way. And for what? The good of the realm?"

"Children always find themselves coming into harms way, one way or another," Ashara reminded him, remembering all the horror stories growing up as a single mother. "You were never one to quit so easily."

"Aye you're right." Ned's hands wavered as he grabbed his sword. He wanted to tell her the truth, any truth, just so that this painful weight could finally be gone with. "There are things that have happened, and things that will come of it that I cannot discuss, but I need you to trust me."

"I do Ned," Ashara said without a doubt. "You know I do."

"Leave the city, not tomorrow, now," Ned pleaded, stepping towards her. Grabbing one of her hands, she saw the desperation all over his face. "Take Orin, and go back to Starfall. Don't come back to Kings Landing."

"Why?"

"I wish it were simple, but I can't say more without putting you and Orin in danger. Please Ashara, get the horses ready, and go."

"Don't you want to see him?" Ashara asked. "One last time?"

"Of course I do," Ned admitted. "I hardly know him, but all I want to do is show him the family he never had. Show him the place his father grew up in, and the many cousins he has. Take him north and show him the lands that belong to him by right. But I can't, now more then ever. I wish we had more time, but you need to go. Quickly."

Ashara didn't know what to make of it all, but she nodded her head regardless, a tear forming in her eye. "I will."

A knock on the door alerted them as Jory opened it to reveal Lord Baelish. He eyed them both with interest before joining them in the room. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

"No Lord Baelish, I was just leaving," Ashara said, hating the look the man was giving her. Turning back, she gave her old love one last look, taking it in, knowing she might not see him again for a long time. "Goodbye Ned."

He smiled one last time before she left.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

His experience in the capital however brief had been a great lesson for Orin. He finally got to see and meet the people who ruled over him and the rest of Westeros and how they went along their way in the environment. That's not to say everything he learned was exciting, in fact many of it came as a bit of a disappointment.

The King had soured his mood with the way he carried himself. He wasn't the great warrior from the stories, instead replaced with a drunk who was far too large to ever be in his prime again.

The crown prince, who would eventually follow in his father's disappointing steps, acted like a brat from the little experience Orin got from him. He wondered how the realm kept the peace with people like that ruling over it.

Still, he got to meet the man who many referred to as the Kingslayer, and he seemed quite taken with his uncle's history. Must have been because his uncle had been the one to knight Jaime Lannister.

Yet for all of the lessons learned on his trip, Orin regretted not getting the chance to Lord Stark one last time. He wanted the chance to know the man who captivated his mother's heart.

Orin was many things, but stupid was not one of them. He'd noticed the looks, however one sided they were, between his mother and Lord Stark. Perhaps that's why his mother never married all those years when she raised him. Maybe she was waiting. Even now, as they continued their journey back home, he could still see her sad eyes.

They were close enough to home that nearly all of their guards had already continued on ahead. Only a few remained on their rear, but far enough for him to ask some very personal questions.

"You loved him?" Orin finally asked, already knowing the answer.

Ashara turned to her son, her sad eyes widened. "In another life perhaps."

Rolling his eyes, Orin eyed her knowingly. "I thought we could speak the truth to one another."

The truth had been the one thing that the two of them relied on from each other during the past 17 years. The ability to tell each other anything, no matter the difficulty or uncertainty, was a key to how close they truly were.

Even if Orin had no idea that there mutual trust and love was built on a lie Ashara had made.

"There was a moment in the past where I thought something could come of it," Ashara admitted. "But sometimes we find ourselves living a life we never thought possible. I made a mistake, and by the time anything could happen, both our worlds had changed. I regret many things in my lifetime Orin, but had things gone differently, I never would have had you. So yes I did love Lord Stark for a time, but I can't regret something coming from it when my path led me to you."

"I'm sorry you never found that kind of love again."

Ashara laughed. "I'm not, I'm too busy trying to keep you from getting into trouble. One day, when you have children of your own, you'll understand that everything you do is for their best interest. There isn't much time to fall in love again."

He knew his mother meant it as a joke, but there was a small part of him that took some truth of that. The thought that his presence ruined any chance of her happiness pained him, even though he knew she was happy when he was there.

Although there was a small part of him that was relieved, he didn't know a man well enough for his mother, and he imagined he never would.

"And what about you?" His mother asked.

Orin's eyes darted towards her. "What do you mean?"

"I thought we were talking truths."

He noticed her playful smile as he groaned. "I don't mean to talk about girls with you."

"And why not!" Ashara said, feigning her shock. "What better advice about girls could you get then coming from one."

Orin felt his cheeks warm as he looked forward towards Starfall in the distance. "I don't imagine I'll have many suitors lined up. I'm a bastard, not a Lord."

"Many Ladies would be very lucky to have you," Ashara said, hating her sons self doubt. "If they can't appreciate the man you are past your name, then they do not deserve you."

Orin chuckled. "You're supposed to say nice things like that, you're my mother."

Brandon never had self-doubt in himself. He knew what he wanted and to Ashara, it had been an attractive quality to a point. Yet Orin was different. He was shy, especially around girls, and for the life of her she didn't know why.

Every mother held there child on a pedestal, but sooner or later she'd convince her son that he was plenty good enough for anyone. He was more then just a pretty face. He had what most men did not, a good heart.

"Just because I say nice things, doesn't make them any less true," She argued.

"True," Orin said, finally seeing the familiar sights of Starfall. Turning to his mother, he smiled. "Or perhaps you and I are destined to be here, under your rule, helping are people, and away from the heartaches that follow love."

Ashara smiled sadly as she eyed her son. He continued on, her guards too, as she stopped her horse to take in her home. The rest of her life here with her son by her side in peace seemed to good to be true, but she didn't want that.

However much she denied it, Orin was meant for more then living out his days in Starfall by her side. He wanted more; she knew, he was just too afraid to hurt her in the process. Maybe Ned was right, maybe it was time she told him the truth.

* * *

Ned sat against the cold wall of the dungeons, wondering how his life had come to this. His life was supposed to be lived out with his family back in Winterfell, yet here he was, most likely moments away from dying in Kings Landing like his father and brother before him.

Yet all he could think of was Sansa and Arya, hoping that they were all right. He cursed himself for not sending them home sooner and leaving after he quit being the Hand. Right now his girls would be home and safe. His honor had got him here, and he prayed that his honor would save him and his girls.

Varys's words rang through his head about betraying everything he believed in and crowning a false king to live out his days. He'd gamble his honor and reputation at the word of a child. A child he knew to be unfit to rule. The mere thought of Joffrey on the throne gave Ned a chill.

Robert was never fit to rule he'd come to learn, but that boy in that position of power, gods the realm would bleed. To save himself, he'd proclaim him King; there wasn't a crueler fate.

He almost wished he could live out his days in this dungeon then have it come to that. However his girls needed him, Robb needed him, and he wouldn't be much help without a head.

Once more the rattle of chains was heard as Ned was faced once more with the familiar sight of Varys. It was strange to think his last friend on this earth would be a man he knew so little of.

"Come to say your last words," Ned muttered, staring off into blackness.

"Lucky for you they don't have to be," Varys quipped. "Not as long as you save yourself and your girls."

"You have a great interest in my family," Ned noticed. It wasn't unseen how far Varys was going to have him plead for mercy. "Why?"

"You die, the realm descends into chaos," Varys answered shortly. "Your words alone can stop your sons march and Stannis's claim. How many lives you could save at the cost of your honor."

"Aye that's true," Ned agreed, still pondering the offer. "But how many lives will remain living with Joffrey as their king. You know what he is, yet we sit here debating to crown him."

Varys smiled. "Another problem Lord Stark, for another time."

Time.

Gods Ned wished he had more of it. Too many things in his life were left unfinished. All he needed was time to fix them, and he could die peacefully.

His children would never see him again. Bran, who lay dying for weeks, would never see his father once more. There wasn't a crueler fate then having his son believe he left him as he fought to live.

Then his nephews, both would never know the truth of their real family. He'd made a dying promise to Lyanna, one he had difficulty keeping for so long, but held true. He hated Jon would never know, and he wished he could speak the words but knew it would destroy his sisters last memory. As much as it pained him, he couldn't break Lyanna's trust, even in death.

Yet there was still time to right one thing.

"Can I trust you Varys?" Ned finally asked.

Varys smiled. "I would have thought you learned your lesson on trust after your failed friendship with Lord Baelish."

The reminder of that snake who held the dagger to his throat hurt Ned. Gods he wished Brandon had finished the job all those years ago. Still, he needed help.

"I'm a fool I suppose for even thinking of trusting you," Ned mumbled defeated.

"As am I for talking to you," Varys pointed out. "I suppose we're fools together."

It was a fair point, but Ned still wrestled with the decision. He'd either condemn his nephew to death, or give him the closure he finally needed. Either way someone would end up hurt, but he didn't want Orin's last memory of him believing he didn't love him.

"Gods be good I'm not making a mistake," Ned whispered before turning to Varys defeated.

* * *

It wasn't long before Orin got home that he sought out Rydan. He remembered promising to tell him off the great stories he had on his trip. Now all he could do was sit in shame telling his stories as the two shared a drink.

"Fuck off," Rydan laughed, taking another sip of his ale. "You're telling me you went to Kings Landing and the only girl you met was the Hand's daughter chasing a cat?"

Orin nodded, completely understanding the humor of it all. "Aren't you glad you didn't come?"

"Depends, was she cute?"

"She was a child," Orin argued, sickened at the thought.

"I wasn't the one chatting her up," Rydan laughed. "Still, you did get to see the Red Keep. Must have been a wonder."

"I didn't take you for a historian."

Rydan's smiled dropped. "Cause I can't read? We all can't be Lords and Ladies."

"Well seeing as how I'm neither, I can agree with you there," Orin said. He never thought Rydan cared much for his status. "Besides you wouldn't like them down there. High and mighty like the rest of us don't matter."

"And to think, you come from a noble house," Rydan pointed out, before gesturing to all the other folks around him." You may sit and act like the rest of us, but you're more then this Orin, and you know it."

"Maybe, but I'm perfectly comfortable where I am," Orin drank, noticing a familiar face walk with great haste. "Maester Talon, everything all right."

The old man had been such a vital part of his life, teaching him everything there was to know. He was family in all but name, so seeing the man with a distressed look worried him.

"Apologies Orin, but I must see your mother quickly, do you know where she is?" He asked, his voice cracking.

Orin's eyes widened, finally noticing the letter in his hand. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Maester Talon shook his head. "I'm sorry Orin but this is meant for your mother."

Breaking every rule he was taught, Orin grabbed the letter before Maester Talon could react. Ignoring the mans plea's, Orin read the letter wondering what could be so important.

Gripping the letter tight, Orin read it once more hoping it was a lie. He couldn't believe the words as he read them. Giving a one last look towards the two he sprinted away towards his mother's chambers deeper in the castle.

It didn't take him very long to barge in. He found her by her balcony, watering some of her flowers as she enjoyed the early sun. It broke his heart watching her so happy since he knew it wouldn't last much longer.

Finally noticing him, she smiled. "Morning my love."

It didn't take long for her to notice his solemn face.

"What is it?"

She looked worried as he held the raven's letter. "I'm so sorry mother."

He watched her quickly take it, doing her best to keep calm. Not much time passed before the letter dropped from her shaking hand as she looked up at him. Tears started to fall as she collapsed.

Orin caught her before she fell, holding her on the floor as she cried. A small tear came from his own eye watching the only person he truly loved break into pieces. Her cries were loud and long and echoed through the walls outside. Holding her tight, Orin's eyes drifted to the piece of parchment, replaying the news in his head.

 _Eddark Stark was dead._ He thought. _And war was coming._


	8. Chapter 7

Just a heads up, there's an almost 2 year time jump from the last chapter to this one. Reason being was I didn't find Orin's story fitting in well with season 2's events and had a much easier time fitting him straight into the middle of season 3.

Also like Ashara, who isn't a character seen on the show, or mentioned if I remember right, I'll be introducing another character from the books that will fit into the story for the time being and eventually better used in future chapters.

Thanks to everyone whose followed and read so far, hope everyone is enjoying the story.

* * *

Chapter 7

Nearly 2 years later…

It wasn't uncommon for liege Lords and Ladies to make an appearance every so often in Sunspear, the capital in Dorne. Unlike the other Kingdoms, Dorne was closed off from the rest of the country. They built their own system and had their own views that most of Westeros frowned upon.

The families were closer here, because they had no one else to relate too. So often times, they found joy and comfort in one another.

So when Ashara had received an invitation from Prince Doran, she could hardly refuse. Though traveling to the capital wasn't much of an inconvenience since her and Orin rather enjoyed their visits, no matter how brief.

The last time they saw the Prince of Dorne and his family was almost five years ago, but things didn't change much in Dorne, so neither were expecting much out of the visit. Usually a celebration would be at the center of it all and after a few days of drinking and dancing, Orin and Ashara would head home with new fond memories.

Unfortunately, as they got closer to the capital after a few days journey, Ashara couldn't help but think there was something more behind the invitation. There trips, years ago, weren't during an open war within the country. Now times were dire, and Ashara had been holding her breath for two long years thinking about the day when Prince Doran would call the banners.

Luckily for her, Dorne remained neutral for the time being, but she didn't know how long that'd last. She refused to even think on the prospect of war. It frightened her like nothing else could, and the constant reminder of it happening at any time, it dampened her moods.

Ashara wished she could say it did the same for her son, but after their visit to the capital years ago, and Ned's death, he took his training to new heights. It pained her to watch day in and day out her son bleeding and sweating as he pushed himself. She'd begged him to stop, but each time he rebuffed her, saying that war would come for them, and he'd have to be ready.

Glancing at her son who rode ahead with Ser Conin, she could see that the war of five kings changed him. Somehow along the way after losing Ned, she lost the innocence that remained of her son. She didn't know what drove him, but knew it couldn't end well.

To think, she'd been close to telling him the truth of it all before Ned's death. Still, she remembered the constant reminder of Ned's dying memory that she kept hidden away from Orin. A few words would change everything and possibly end her son's life.

Thankfully, as Ashara spotted the tallest spire of the capital, they were heading further away from the war, and closer towards safety.

* * *

"Lady Ashara, it seems as the years pass, the more beautiful you get," Prince Doran smiled warmly, greeting his guest.

Orin smiled as the prince of Dorne greeted his mother like a long lost sister. He wasn't sure how the customs of guests in the other regions were, he was just thankful to live where he did. You weren't treated like a Lord and Lady, but as a friend. There was a distinction that many seemed to confuse.

"You're too kind my Prince," Ashara smiled gracefully. Gesturing towards him, she stepped back. "I'm sure you remember my son, Orin?"

"But of course," Prince Doran smiled. He saw the kind eyes of the prince look him over before he nodded. "The last time we met you were a boy, yet here you stand a man. And a good one it seems, I can see the pride in your mothers eyes."

"I try my best my prince," Orin thanked.

"Hopefully you still try your best when it comes to a sword."

The pair turned to watch the younger brother of Doran walk into the room with a smile on his face, Prince Oberyn. Dressed in clothes best suited for battle, he approached the two before stopping by his brother's side.

"I see a great beauty such as yourself Ashara and I can't help but grow sad," Oberyn admitted. Turning to Orin he smiled. "I see I can never have a chance the way your son looks at me. It's a wonder you have time for any love with this one guarding you so closely."

His mother laughed as she rested her arm on his shoulder tenderly. "He's all I need."

"Yes I'm sure." The prince continued to watch as Orin held his stare. On the outside, it would have seemed disrespectful, but the prince broke out in a laugh. "It's good to see you my boy. You've grown."

Orin laughed. "That's what the years do to you."

Out of everyone beyond Starfall, and to be frank there weren't many, the person Orin idolized was prince Oberyn. Luckily enough for him, his mother had been close friends, and he had grown up seeing the prince many times. He considered him a friend, and hoped the prince felt the same.

"Ashara, I hope you forgive my forwardness, but I'd like to very much see what your son has to show for himself."

Orin watched his mother tense for a moment before nodding with a smile. It was fake he knew, but it'd become custom for Orin to spar with the prince every time he'd visit. His first time he'd been nine, and as the years past, he hadn't don't much to change the end result.

Yet it'd been five years since he'd last seen the prince, and he hoped for a better end result.

"Good," Oberyn smiled, before turning to him. "I assume you haven't forgotten the way?"

* * *

"You've gotten better," Oberyn said, catching his breath as the spear he held laid pointed at Orin's chest.

Once more he was on his back with the prince standing above, weapon ready, and Orin facing defeat once more. They'd been at it for nearly and hour and he'd lost every time.

"Not good enough," Orin mumbled, pushing the spear away from him. Rising from the dirt, he got ready once more.

The prince smiled. "You do not quit do you Orin? That is something I respect."

"As long as I can fight, " Orin said, lunging forward with his sword. "I will."

The two met once more, sword and spear meeting violently in a clash. Drawing back, the two circled each other, trying to find a hole.

Oberyn dictated the movements, circling Orin, leading him where he wanted him to be led. His footwork was quick as he sent his spear swinging for his feet, but Orin swung, cutting the attack off.

Stepping back into the dirt, the hot son beating down, Orin felt his body tire. He'd watch in amazement as the prince twirled his spear around his body effortlessly like he'd just started. He couldn't fathom how he could continue to fight as if the last hour meant nothing.

His eyes caught another flurry of attacks as he battled them off, using his sword to defend himself. His feet carried him further and further back until he could sense the wall behind him.

The viper controlled the fight, had been the whole time, and Orin couldn't find a flaw anywhere. How could he possibly defeat someone who knew they would win?

 _I got it._ Orin thought.

The answer came to him in a jolt.

Realizing what he had to do, Orin continued blocking the attacks before he let his defenses down on his legs. He saw Oberyn's eyes draw downward, and the spear followed.

He knew he couldn't block it, but didn't have to. The spear came down hard, the pointed end resting right between his thighs, in a more uncomfortable position.

Yet the Oberyn looked up to see Orin's sword pointed at his face, the blade practically resting on his shoulder.

"You gave up your legs to win," Oberyn stated, a smile forming on his face. Pulling his spear back, he watched him intently. "Why?"

"I didn't win," Orin answered, drawing his sword back. "But I didn't lose. A sword has a better chance of killing someone in one swing, wouldn't you say?"

"Do you plan on killing your prince Orin?" Oberyn laughed.

Orin blushed, shaking his head. "Never. Besides, you were holding back."

"Maybe," Oberyn said, his smile fading, as his eyes looked him over once more. "Maybe not."

Remembering whom he was talking to, Orin bowed thankfully. "I thank you my prince."

"You're to rigid," Oberyn lifted his head, his smile back. "We must get you a girl. Or boy, which ever you prefer. Please, tell me you've been living your life well back home?"

Orin caught the meaning as he turned a little red, shaking his head. "No not exactly."

Oberyn watched him, a look of pity, or sadness, or maybe discomfort, he wasn't sure, before his eyes widened. Orin didn't understand as the prince patted his shoulder before turning away.

Did his answer disappoint him, Orin wondered.

He knew the prince was a lustful man; rumors of his conquests weren't lost on him. Perhaps he was sad that Orin didn't follow the same lifestyle he did. As adventurous as that may have been, he couldn't imagine being like the prince.

"He likes you," A voice called out from the shadows.

Orin turned towards the voice and watched as a young woman appeared from the other side of the room. He recognized her instantly as Prince Doran's eldest child, princess Arianne. She strode quietly towards him, a smile on her face the entire time.

"Princess Arianne," Orin bowed, doing his best to act decent. Her looks weren't lost on him as he watched her stop a mere foot away from him. Her tiny frame cowered in his height as he looked down on her. Yet as she looked up, her large eyes regarded him with fascination and mischief. "It's good to see you again."

"Yes it is," Arianne smiled, resting her hand against his chest. "You've grown so much."

Orin smiled lightly. "So I've heard."

It'd been a long time since he'd last seen her. His last trip to Sunspear, the princess had fallen ill and Orin missed the chance to see her again. That wasn't to say he needed to, he just remembered the fun they had growing up when he was younger.

Yet as they got older, Arianne changed, and her idea of fun was something Orin had yet to experience.

Arianne's hand dropped lower down his chest before it rested on the hilt of his sword. "You fought well. My uncle thought so."

"Prince Oberyn is very skilled," Orin whispered, all the air in the room gone. "Truth be told he nearly killed me from exhaustion."

"I hope not," Arianne withdrew her hand as she circled him. "Hopefully you still have some strength left."

"Does one of your cousins wish to spar?" Orin asked, remembering the sand snakes all too well. After his bouts with their father, some of the daughters would take great pleasure in beating him as well.

"You're done sparring," The princess teased. She stayed close behind him, as he felt her hand run along the back of his shoulders. "There are others things that are more important."

The blood in his veins pumped as he dreaded the answer. "Such as?"

Rounding him so he was facing her eye to eye, the princess smiled, her facing becoming even more enchanting. "Let me show you."


	9. Chapter 8

Marvelmyra: Yes he'll meet Jon, not soon, but eventually, as for the other questions, read on, you'll find them out soon enough.

Dipsyy: Orins a very strong fighter, but like both Robb and Jon at the beginning, he's yet to experience an actual battle so he's not exactly ready to take on Jaime Lannister. But that's not to say he won't get better with time!

Thank you to all those who reviewed, I appreciate the feedback and kind words. Also, thanks to all the other readers.

* * *

Chapter 8

Orin gasped at the contact as he lay back on the bed with the princess straddling his waist. It didn't take long for her to drag him to her bedroom and take what she wanted. She had always been a demanding woman and he was beginning to understand how powerful that resolve seemed to be.

His senses started to overwhelm him as the princess pushed his torso back, showering him in hot kisses. His chest, neck, and then claiming his lips, Arianne wanted it all it seemed.

"Arianne," Orin whispered through the kiss. "We shouldn't…"

"Shhh," She whispered, slowly grinding on top of him. They were both still clothed from the waist down, but the thin material left little to the imagination. "You talk too much."

Grabbing his hands, Arianne guided them to her breasts, as Orin cupped them with a groan. She knew how to get what she wanted and was using every asset possible to succeed.

Her skin was so smooth as Orin slowly caressed her. He felt her nipples harden under his touch and started to feel dizzy. It was wrong, he knew, and the voice in his head kept telling him to stop. Yet all he thought about was how good it felt to be wanted like this.

Arianne's hands traced along his chest before they made their way lower until they rested on the top of his trousers. Pulling tightly, Orin grasped and quickly sat forward, pushing the princess off him gently.

"What's wrong?" Arianne mumbled angrily at the loss of contact. She needed this, and refused to move from his lap. "Did you want to be on top?"

"What? No!" Orin argued, trying his best to compose himself. It was difficult with the princess half nude on his body. "We shouldn't do this."

"Why not!" Arianne countered, taking his hand in hers. "You were enjoying it."

"I was not," Orin lied.

Letting his hand go, Arianne grabbed his member roughly through his pants, giving it a tug. "This is all the proof I need."

Orin spun out of her grasp to rise, leaving her on the bed defeated. He paced back and forth trying to calm down and figure out the situation. It wasn't often he found himself in the chamber of the princess waiting to claim her.

"Orin, it's okay to be nervous," Arianne smiled from the bed, a little amused at his actions. "I'll be gentle, I promise. For the most part…"

The subtle innuendo was not lost on him as he rolled his eyes. "I am not nervous."

"Really?"

He caught her piercing eyes and knew she was right. Sighing, he took a defeated seat on the edge of the bed. He didn't bother to fight her as she slipped her way towards him, caressing him from the back and resting her face a top his shoulder.

"Maybe I am," Orin whispered. He'd had plenty of chances growing up, but each time something pulled him back. "It isn't right."

"Why?" Arianne asked, her walls coming down. She wasn't angry anymore, just curious.

Orin shrugged, trying his best to put into words of what he was feeling. "I never knew if my mother loved my father. She never spoke of him or how they came to be. He was there one moment and then he was gone. Yet deep down she loved another. I saw it in her eyes the moment I told her Ned Stark died. I had never seen her break down like that."

"I don't understand," Arianne whispered.

"My mother loves me, more then anything," Orin began, knowing that to be the truest thing he's ever known. "But I do not believe that we have to choose between the one we love and the children we have. The two belong together. My mother chose me, and because of that, she lost out on the chance of being with the one she loved. I don't know if Ned Stark felt the same about her, even though my mother pressed the matter that he loved another many times. I just want to be with the person I love, and only her if the moment should ever come. That way our children never have to question if they decided that their parents were unhappy. It's a horrible burden thinking that you are the cause of your parents sorrow."

"You don't know that."

Turning to look her in the eyes, Orin smiled sadly. "You're right, I don't know if that's true. However it still does not change the way I feel. You don't love me, nor I you, and we both know this isn't the beginning of a happy marriage. It's lust, and as good as it feels, it would never last."

Arianne cupped his face, her eyes hard. "It does not need to. People can make each other feel good Orin, it isn't a crime."

"Of course not," Orin understood. He could see the hurt in her eyes at being rejected. "Believe me you're the closest person I've ever come to being with, and I've thought about it many times in the past."

Orin saw the small smile on her face as he continued. "But you don't love me Arianne, and my mother raised me to do the right thing, even if that means sacrificing your own happiness."

"Damn you!" Arianne shouted in frustration. Throwing her head back on her bed, she tried her best to compose her emotions. She didn't want to talk; she wanted this great beast of a man to conquer her like she had planned. "Damn you Orin."

"I'm sorry," Orin laughed, watching her act like a bratty child. Feeling a little better, and perhaps a little mischief, Orin slowly caressed her bare leg as he crawled towards her. "Maybe time will change that."

Arianne laughed as his face rested above hers, inches away. "You think I'll wait for you? You don't know me very well."

"I know," Orin whispered, planting one last tender kiss. His body pressed against her, he could feel her arms and legs wrap around him like a trap. Pulling away before it got too hard, he rested his forehead against hers. "Just in case that's are last."

"It better not be," Arianne whispered, a small smile on her face.

Giving her one last tender look, Orin swiftly grabbed his things and made a quick exit out the room. Any longer, and he would have given in to his lust for her. He was a fool he knew, walking away from a beauty like Arianne. And not just a beauty, she was fierce and independent, and he knew her well. Yet he knew she just wanted to bed him and be done with it. It wasn't cruel; it was just the way she was. He respected that she knew what she wanted, but he respected himself too much to go against everything he believed in.

Everyone around him could do as they pleased. If Prince Oberyn wanted to fuck have the country, then best wishes to him. Orin wouldn't follow though, he'd hold out, no matter how difficult, and pray that one day he could feel something for someone the way his mother felt for Ned Stark.

Doing his best not to get lost, Orin found himself back in the gardens with no one in sight. He contemplated heading back to Arianne, but thought against it. It wouldn't be wise to see her again until he left.

Heading deeper into the garden, Orin heard voices a few yards away carry towards him. The words were lost in the wind as he approached the bush that separated him from them. Stopping in his tracks to peak around, he noticed his mother and Prince Oberyn talking alone.

The two were close he knew, and just as he was about to address them, his words died in his mouth.

* * *

"And your son?" Oberyn asked. After his spar with the young man, he realized how much the boy needed to know the truth. "He needs to know Ashara."

Ashara glared, not caring whom it was she were talking too. "I've made my decision. He'll never know."

She watched Oberyn smile sadly at her, before he passed her the letter he'd been holding. "This war, it's coming for us. All of us."

Grabbing the letter, Ashara eyes scanned over it quickly. She remembered another letter she'd gotten a while ago that nearly broke her. This one wasn't as frightening, but more so confusing.

"A wedding?" Ashara read. "Or weddings?"

"Yes," Oberyn nodded, taking the letter back. "It seems war wakens peoples eyes to love. King Joffrey is to marry the Tyrell girl."

"And Edmure Tully is to marry Walder Frey's daughter," Ashara finished, a little impatient. "What of it? Why is it you called me here Prince Oberyn?"

"My brother has been invited to the royal wedding," Oberyn explained. Gesturing around, he eyed the garden with love. "My brother loves his city, and his people. But I'm afraid he could never leave even if he wished to. His strength leaves him here bound forever. I will travel in his place."

Prince Oberyn at the capital was a dangerous thing Ashara imagined, and waited for the dreaded news.

"Of course other Dornish banner man will accompany me as well."

Understanding the news, Ashara shook her head, tears starting to fall. "I will not go back and celebrate a wedding for the evil child who took Ned's head. You cannot force me to go."

Ashara's hand began to shake as Oberyn quickly held them gently, trying to sooth her. "Nor will I my Lady. Do you really think I'd ever ask that of you? I lost my sister to those animals; I would never ask you to go back there."

Her breath started to steady as she relaxed. Ashara knew Oberyn would never hurt her, they'd been friends for so many years. Yet she knew how deep his hatred and revenge went for the Lannisters, and she was just glad she wouldn't be in the crossfire.

"Then what are you asking?" Ashara finally said.

"I plan to bring those who've wronged me to justice, and as it so happens, all of them will be at the royal wedding," Oberyn explained.

"You'll die," Ashara understood the consequences of his soon to be actions.

Shaking his head, Oberyn rose from his seat. "I have no plans on dying. For too long the Lannisters have been in power. A bastard boy who killed the man you loved sits on the throne ruling us under the guidance of the man who murdered Elia. That cannot go unpunished."

"You'll start a war?" Ashara whispered, hating the words coming from the prince.

"Dorne cannot do this alone Ashara," Oberyn admitted. He paced for a few moments before turning to her seriously. "You love your son, as I love my family, but for too long we've allowed lions to prey on the rest of us. Ned Stark's son still plans on seeing the Lannisters answer for their crimes and eventually he will turn his eye to the capital and bring the war to their door. Dorne will march with him after we've solidified our alliance."

The pieces tried to fit together in Ashara's head as she thought out Oberyn's plan. "Robb Starks already married."

Oberyn grimaced; knowing what he said next would hurt the woman he cared deeply for. "Robb Starks not the true heir to the North."

Eye's widened, Ashara stood angrily. "NO!"

"Ashara please…"

"I said no!" She yelled, tears starting to fall from her eyes.

"My brother will never allow his men to fight a war they could not win," Oberyn whispered, trying to reason with her. "If Orin were to marry Arianne, then maybe…"

"Maybe?" Ashara repeated. "You want to gamble my son's life so you could have revenge!"

"Never," Oberyn argued. He spun around to see if anyone was around, before he grabbed Ashara tightly by the arms. "He's a Stark Ashara, Brandon's only heir. He's ready for this, to lead; I can see it in his eyes. The Lannisters have taken almost everything from us. It's time we started doing the same."

"The second the realm knows, I lose him," Ashara whispered, hugging the prince. "Forever."

"If we do not do this, we lose everything," Oberyn mumbled back.

Tears continued to fall down her face as she cried in the prince's arms. It was all too much for her as she played out the scenario in her mind. In a moment she would lose everything she held dear and it'd never be the same again.

She couldn't do it.

Trying to wipe the tears away, Ashara readied herself to refuse the prince but her breath hitched in her throat as she pulled away. Standing behind a bush, almost hidden, someone stood staring at her, his face hard and unmoving.

"Orin."


	10. Chapter 9

Guest: If and when they meet Dany, it won't be for quite awhile, Right now Orin's journey is Westeros bound.

Dipsyy: Sorry to disappoint you hahaha, I'm sure Arianne feels the same way. Hopefully you aren't disappointed with the confrontation of Orin and Ashara.

Hail King Cerlon: Robb's will soon find his way into this story. And hopefully you liked Arianne's character, she'll be a recurring character in future chapters.

* * *

Chapter 9

The storm outside dampened the already somber mood Ashara was in as she sat by her window watching the rainfall. Thankfully they'd just gotten home before the storm and everyone in the party that accompanied her to Sunspear were safely back with their families.

She almost laughed at the prospect that the only think to be thankful for was that her people did not get wet from the long ride home. Her life truly was in shambles as she lowered her head in shame.

Orin had fled Sunspear and for three days she had not seen him. She didn't know where he'd gone or when he was coming back. The harder part was wondering if he was even still alive. Three days alone on the road without guards or help was dangerous, especially during war.

Once more she felt tears begin to form as she thought of her mistakes. Bound to this chamber, alone with no help, all she could do was drown in her sorrow and blame. It was no ones fault but her own, and now was the time she paid for it.

Her heart couldn't take much more pain, and the constant thought of her boy suffering because of her nearly shattered it beyond repair. She'd lost Arthur, she'd lost Brandon, she'd lost Ned, and now she was sure she'd lost the most important one of them all, her son.

A soft knock broke her trance as she raised her head and weakly addressed the person. She smiled sadly as Conin strode in quietly, and apologetic look on his face.

"Still no word?" Ashara asked.

Conin shook his head, hating the feeling of failure. "I'm so sorry My Lady."

"It's my fault," She answered truthfully. "I hid the truth from him. For so long I lied to him, that it almost began to feel like the truth. How wrong I was."

"He'll come back, I know he will."

Ashara tried her best to compose herself, but once more she started to cry. "I lost him Conin. I lost my only boy because I was afraid. What will I do now?"

Quickly hurrying to her side, Conin draped his arm around her, pressing a piece of cloth towards her to wipe away her tears. "You mustn't think like that. He'll forgive you, I know he will."

"I don't want his forgiveness," Ashara cried. "I just want to see him again."

Holding her close, Conin's face grew tight, swearing to every god he'd find Orin and return him to his mother. Whatever it took, he'd bring him home. He just needed a place to look.

* * *

Watching the countless men come and leave was an interesting thing to watch. Every so often a ship would dock, and on it men would disembark and go their separate ways. Soon after, some of the men would return, and newer one would replace the ones who stayed, and that ship would soon leave and never return.

Orin watched a dozen ships come and go, men alike, in the past day or so. All he kept doing was wondering what these faceless men would be doing. Where were they going? Were they pirates or merchants? Did they come to see their family or leave? Were they good men or bad?

I guess it didn't really matter Orin thought, as it was never that simple. The world wasn't so black and white anymore. Maybe these men had a secret that made it more complicated then just being a pirate or selling a spice.

It wasn't up to him to know, as all he could do was sit and wonder. Sit and wonder and find the courage to finally board the next ship and set himself on his way. The last ship had left an hour ago and he'd already booked passage and room on it, but decided against it at the last moment.

The captain probably didn't mind, seeing as how he kept the gold and the room was now empty. However the purse he carried his gold in was running low as he'd paid the last five captains and decided against going each time.

Perhaps the next time he'd just sneak onto the boat and deal with the problem afterwards. How hard could it be to fight off a pirate?

Sighing in defeat, Orin watched from a distance as the next ship approached.

"You didn't say goodbye," A voice called out from behind him. He didn't need to turn as he caught Conin ride by next to him. The two sat staring at the ship as it slowly approached. "Is that the one?"

"There all the same I imagine," Orin quietly said.

"I use to love sailing."

"I know."

Conin smiled, a memory passing through his head. "I remember you're first time on a boat…"

"I don't wish to hear anymore Conin," Orin quickly said, cutting the man off. He eyed the man he'd grown up respecting more then any other man and all he could feel was anger. "Why are you here?"

"You know why," Conin answered sternly.

"She lied to me," Orin's words felt foreign in his mouth. "You lied to me."

Not bothering to deny it, Conin nodded. "We did."

Orin smiled, turning back towards the ship that was now docking. "How'd you find me?"

"I must admit it wasn't easy," Conin remembered spending an entire day searching through each neighboring village and failing each time. "But then I realized that even in the hardest moments, you always try and do the right thing."

"You think running is the right thing?" He asked.

"You aren't running," Conin concluded, nodding at the ship. "These ships sail towards Oldtown. You're heading for the Kingsroad to travel north, aren't you?"

"Perhaps you should be the master of strategy," Orin said, a little impressed. He thought long and hard about his plan. "I don't know what my purpose is any longer, perhaps I never knew, but I can't stay in Starfall any longer. Not when my blood fights a war."

"One man won't change the outcome of a war Orin," Conin tried to reason with him.

Turning quickly, Orin eyed the knight with a dark look. "You'd have me sit away on the edge of the world while my family fights and dies in a war."

"Family?" Conin repeated. "Your family is in Starfall."

"I don't know who I am Conin," Orin admitted. "Sand, Dayne, Stark? I don't know which I belong too, maybe all of them, or maybe none. But I think I owe it to myself to figure it out. You're right, the Starks aren't my family, I didn't grow up with them and I never loved them. I never got to chance too."

"You expect Robb Stark to hand over his lands and titles to you on your word?" Orin felt the presence of the knight get closer before a hand rested on his shoulder. "The northerners won't follow you."

"I don't want them to follow me. I don't want their lands or to rule over their people, or any of it."

"Then what do you want?"

Sighing, Orin's features softened as he looked at Conin. "You know what's the most difficult thing Conin? Doing the right thing. Not just when it's easy, or when it's suits you best. It means doing it all the time, regardless of what it does to you. It sacrifices your strength, your comfort, your honor, and most of the time your life. But you do it because in the end, it's the right thing to do. I spent my life thinking if given the chance, I'd have it in me to do that. If I don't help them, what kind of person does that make me?"

Sitting in Starfall hoping for the war to end wasn't what Orin wanted. He knew Conin was right; he couldn't change the outcome of the war solely on him. Yet he hoped the knight could understand that avoiding it wasn't any better.

"And tell me Orin, this constant feeling of doing right by everyone, no matter the cost, is it telling you to abandon the only person who's truly ever been there for you?"

Smiling sadly, Orin turned to him. "Why do you think I've waited this whole time?"

* * *

Another day passed as Ashara say by her window watching the sunset. Once again the sun rose and fell and her son hadn't been home. If this constant pain was her punishment she didn't know how long she could hold out before she tossed herself into the sea.

Orin was the last thing she held dear and if he was gone, she didn't know why she'd bother staying. Perhaps in the next life she'd be with him and Arthur, maybe Brandon and Ned too. Her sins forgotten and she could just move on.

Her depression was starting to get the better of her and she hated that she was giving in so easily. She was stronger then this, she knew it.

Turning away from the window, Ashara glanced at her hands and the note rolled up neatly. She had hoped to find Orin home after he fled Sunspear and finally give it to him. She imagined it would help him cope better but she couldn't be certain. For almost two years she would re read the letter every night and each time would bring fresh tears to her eyes.

She slowly traced her finger along the broken Direwolf sigil, mesmerized by the sight. It seemed everyone important to her was a wolf.

"Mother."

Ashara's fingers stopped suddenly, her head lifting towards her door where he son stood. His face was dirty from the days away from home and he still wore the same clothes he had when she'd last seen him. She couldn't read his expression but the moment he took another step forward, Ashara ran towards him in happiness.

Reaching him in seconds, Ashara buried her face in his neck and held on for life. Her tears dripped all over him and her nails dug into his back but she didn't care, her boy was finally home.

"You're home," She cried, not having the courage to even look at him. "I'm so sorry."

She could feel his hands tentatively hug her back before he nudged her away slowly. Not wanting to be to far, Ashara hardly moved before she looked up to see her sons face. The disappointment and anger was obvious in his look and she remembered that it was her fault.

"You're angry," She whispered.

Brows furrowed, Orin nodded. "Of course I'm angry."

"I can explain…" She began before her son stormed past her towards the window.

Watching the light die in the sky, Orin turned on her in frustration. "How can you? You stole away my life. I have another family out there, who are bleeding in the dirt so that the people responsible for the murder of my uncle are brought to justice. I have an uncle…"

Ashara watched as her son collapsed into her chair in disbelief. So many things must have been going through his head and she couldn't help him.

"Ned Stark was my uncle," Orin whispered to himself, his hands shaking. Looking up with tears in his eyes, he looked at her. "Did he know?"

Ashara nodded, her words betraying her, as she couldn't speak.

"Of course he did," Orin mumbled, knowing it to be true. "Did he ever want…to know me?"

"He did," Ashara nodded. She took a delicate step closer to her son. "In this very room when you were only a year old. He wanted to take you away back to Winterfell and raise you. The north was yours by right, and he wanted you to have it."

"But he didn't," Orin summed up, looking around the bedroom chambers of his mother.

"I refused."

"Why?" Orin demanded.

Ashara's throat tightened. "Why? How can you possibly ask that? He would have taken you from me Orin. Forever. I lost everything in Robert's Rebellion do you honestly think I'd lose you too. You're my son, you belong with me."

"You had no right to keep that from me," Orin shouted. "Winterfell or not I deserved to know the truth. Do you really think it's the north I'm angry about? That I care who rules what? I grew up believing that you and I were the only family we had. It made me understand how important that was, and to now know that I have another. My grandfather murdered, uncle murdered, aunt murdered, 3 Stark children presumed dead, my…my father murdered."

Ashara cried as her son broke down in front of her. She wanted to take away all the pain but how? How could you possibly make someone feel better after their life is destroyed?

"You had no right to keep this from me," Orin said, his anger rising with each breath he took. "I deserved the truth and all this time you lied to me!"

Ashara nodded, feeling ashamed. "I wanted to protect you…"

"I've been here for years training to defend my family and all the while they've been losing their lives. How can I live with that?"

"What good is following them to the grave?" She argued.

"Better then ignoring them all together," Orin whispered, finally looking at her. "You lied to me, and I don't know how to get past it."

Ashara gripped the letter still in her hands, knowing it was the first step into Orin accepting the reality of the situation. "This is for you."

Orin eyed the letter from her before looking up. "What is it?"

Without a word, she passed it to him and watched as he slowly read it. She didn't need to bother and read along, she'd memorized it after so long.

 _Orin Stark,_

 _If the time comes where this letter should come into your hands, then you now know the truth. It grieves me that these words aren't coming from me, and rightfully so you deserve them to be, but I cannot give you what you want. What I can give you is the notion of stopping any doubt as to if I ever cared. I never got the chance to know you, and by no means is that your mother's fault. She loves you, make no mistake, and any wrongdoing is my fault alone. I should have sought you out sooner and then maybe you wouldn't be reading this to know that I loved you, just like your father Brandon would have. Whatever you decide to do, please know that you are a Stark. You still have a family north if you ever need console, and a home that is rightfully yours. You won't find any joy in the truth, but you once asked me how I cope with it. Perhaps it's time you found out how you do to._

 _Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North_

Ashara watched her son read the note once more before passing it to her. She could see tears in his eyes. "We could have saved him."

"He was gone before I got this," Ashara admitted.

"And you just decided to keep this from me?"

Ashara nodded, not bothering to fight him. Ned's death had changed things. Had he survived, she would have liked to think that she would have been strong enough to tell Orin the truth. With Ned being in the capital, Orin would be that much closer. Maybe they could have spent some time together in the coming years. That stupid dream of hers was shattered the day Ned lost his head.

"I didn't want to lose you."

Orin smiled through his tears. "I suppose there's nothing left to say then."

"I suppose not," Ashara agreed. Her curiosity got the best of her as she'd wondered something ever since he walked in. "How come you came back?"

"To say goodbye," Orin spoke truthfully. A pain in her heart rose as she thought of the notion. "Now I don't know what to do? I just feel lost."

Once more she was faced with a life altering decision. She knew what she had to do but like before all she could think of was what was best for her and her son. Could she really break him once more like she had? Thinking about Ned's words and the dark path she'd already chosen, Ashara knew what had to be done.

"I know," She whispered, softly grabbing his hand. His eyes met hers as she continued. "It's time you met the rest of your family. For too long I was afraid of losing you and in the process I did so anyways. I will not have you suffering any longer by my doing. You ride for Riverrun."

"Riverrun?" Orin repeated.

"The King in the North Robb Stark is garrisoned there," Ashara explained. "It's time you met your cousin."

She could see his eyes harden at the prospect. It was easy to say something, but harder to do. If and when Orin would have gone she did not know, but now he would, and with her help.

Orin nodded. "I'll leave tomorrow."

"We'll leave tomorrow," Ashara corrected. She saw her sons walls come up but stopped him short. "Stay angry at me if you chose, but I am your mother and I decide my own fate. Dorne will have a part to play. Besides, I have someone I need to talk to if we hope to have any chance at winning this war."


	11. Chapter 10

**Hail King Creton: Love the enthusiasm and I'm glad that the chapter hit. I always wanted a tension between the two and hoped to make it a realistic as possible. So hopefully I did that with not having Orin forgiver her so easily.**

 **To all the other readers, thank you for sticking with this story and hope everyone is enjoying it as much as I am writing it!**

* * *

Chapter 10

Once more Orin found himself back on the road, but this time, he didn't know when he'd see Starfall again. It hadn't hit him until a day after they'd left, that they were walking into dangerous lands. The journey to the Riverlands wouldn't come easy, just as long as they made it.

They'd ridden hard and had already made it past the Reach and towards the trident. Orin had wondered how many men his mother would bring if she truly decided to pledge her house to the northerners cause, but decided against bringing a large group.

"Too many people attract unwanted attention," His mother had said.

The two rode with Conin, Lewin, and 2 more from their personal guard. Orin had been surprised Lewin offered, seeing as how he hadn't left Starfall in almost 3 decades. Yet he was the first to offer, even though he didn't know the true meaning of their ride north.

Between the six of them, only Conin knew the truth about their intentions with Robb Stark. They thought it was best that the men they rode with continued believing that Orin was still Orin.

He wondered how the people he grew up with would act when they found out, if they ever found out. Both his mother and Conin acted normal enough as they rode next to him.

They hadn't said much but he assumed that was mostly his fault. As much as it pained him to see his mother so sad, he couldn't forgive her. The only person he ever truly trusted and depended on, and he couldn't forgive them.

As uneasy as it was on him, he could see how hard it was for her. The men that traveled with them did their part and not press the matter, which he was grateful for, but eventually they would all start to worry.

Gone was the usual radiant smile and aura of his mother. Her contagious smile and loving personality was replaced with sadness. There was no other way to see past it.

"We should stop here for the night," Lewin announced, eyeing the vast surroundings. There wasn't an inn or tavern within eyes view and the sun had already gone down.

"I'll go scout ahead My Lady," Rolan said, one of the guards who accompanied them.

His mother thanked them before she stepped off her horse. The pain was evident on her face as she tried to walk it off. Riding on a horse for days wasn't easy, and clearly not comfortable when you weren't use to it.

The others soon found themselves setting up tent around them and Orin was left alone with his mother. She sat peacefully on a rock as the horse she rode ate something from the palm of her hand.

Even the simplest act she looked graceful. He wondered if his father ever thought the same thing.

"What was he like?" Orin stated, taking a seat across from her. He noticed her brows furrow in confusion. "My father."

Ashara inhaled deeply, as she stroked the main of her horse. "He was fierce."

"Fierce?" Orin repeated.

Nodding, Ashara continued. "I've known many men in my life, some smart, others righteous, some honorable, but never have I known a man quite like Brandon. I always knew the love to carry a sword would fall upon you one day. He loved the fight, just like you, and was good. He was very good. Yet with all that love, his passion sometimes got the better of him. Ned once told me that Brandon had 'wolfs blood' in him. He was rather difficult sometimes."

Orin caught the double meaning as his mother eyed him knowingly.

"You look like him," Ashara carried on. "Your hair's not as long, and you might have my eyes, but everyday I look at you I'm reminded of him."

He wondered how hard it was to look at your child every morning and see the ghost of the one you lost. It would have been kinder to believe that his father had died fighting a battle somewhere on the Trident rather then knowing the truth.

"I can't stop thinking about the way he died," Orin admitted, feeling the relief of finally telling someone.

Ever since he'd found out, all he could do was remember the stories he learned growing up about the way Brandon Stark entered the throne room and demanded the crown prince to die.

As a child he use to imagine the man being the bravest man he'd ever read about. Challenging the king and prince to save his sister. It wasn't the smartest move, but one he must have thought to be the right one. Who were others to judge a man on wanting to save his kin?

When he read it all those years ago, he left on the idea that Brandon's Stark tragic death was just that. Every war had them, and others would to. A simple tragedy, just like Prince Oberyn's sister and children.

Brandon Stark had been no one to him. Why should he ponder in sadness on a man he knew little of?

How stupid of him to think back like that.

"What happened to him was a great crime," His mother said quietly. He couldn't imagine how daunting it must have been to live with that knowledge of a man you once cared for to suffer like that.

"Did you love each other?" He asked, wondering how he came to be.

Shaking her head, Ashara ventured on. "Not the way we should have. He was betrothed to another and we made an error in judgment."

"I was a mistake," Orin summed up, not sure how he was supposed to feel about that.

Letting the horse go, Ashara reached for his hands, holding them tight. "A mistake I have no regrets making. If I could go back, knowing I'd end up here, through all the pain and loss, I'd still do it. Believe me, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"I do believe you," Orin spoke truthfully. "I just can't trust you."

He could see the hurt on her face as he spoke. It would have been easier to face the Hound in single combat then look at his mothers face in that moment. Whatever had just passed between them had been shattered by his words, and he knew there was no turning back from it.

"You should get some rest," Orin stood, wanting to get away from it all. "I'll take first watch with Rolan."

His mother sighed defeated before he turned away. Conin approached him with a questioning glance but he ignored it. He no longer wanted to discuss his past. All it did was bring misery to everyone around.

Grabbing his sword and flask, Orin caught up with Rolan, who was heading back from up the road. He wasn't much older then him, but Conin trusted him enough to allow him to come, even if Orin didn't know him all too well.

"Any trouble?" Orin asked.

Shaking his head, Rolan pointed east. "Nothing but a drunk passed out beside his horse half a mile that way. Shouldn't cause too much trouble I imagine."

"Best hope not."

The two walked back towards camp where the others had began getting ready for some much needed rest. Tomorrow would be a long day, and the next few would be ones that changed the outlook on Dorne's role in the war to come.

Orin noticed his mother's body lie still, her face hidden, and she rested. Doing his best not to wake her, Orin guided Rolan past the camp and into the woods that bordered them.

"You ever travel North My Lord?" Rolan asked.

"I'm not a Lord," Orin corrected, a small smile on his face. "No one ever seems to get that."

"Apologies, just assumed."

"That's alright." Thinking about the question beforehand, Orin shook his head. "And no, never north. Furthest I've ever gone was Kings Landing."

"Ah the capital, wondrous sight, terrible people," Rolan jested. "Sad day when a bastard boy sits on the Iron Throne."

Orin would have flinched at the term bastard when used like that, but it seemed gone was his distaste for the word. He never hated being a Sand, it was just a name after all, but he understood what it meant. Truth be told it was the looks his mother got for birthing a Sand that he truly hated.

However now he was a Stark, or in name he was, even though he knew he'd never be accepted as one. Names weren't just given, they were earned, and he'd yet to achieve the latter of the two.

"That sad day will soon come to an end," Orin suggested, thinking long and hard about the king. "That so called King won't live forever."

"You plan on killing him yourself?" Rolan laughed, clearly getting more comfortable.

Most highborn would have scolded the man right then and there for talking back to him that way, but Orin was neither highborn nor insulted. In fact he rather enjoyed when people opened up and felt comfortable. He rather someone say something to his face then hide it behind his back.

"I've never killed a man," Orin confessed. "I've come close."

"Not much to it. Just swing and hack!"

Orin laughed watching as Rolan pulled out his sword and pretended to kill a nearby tree. It felt good to watch a man make a fool of himself. It took his mind of things and just allowed him to laugh and smile for the first time in days.

"And I'll tell you, the second you kill a man, the feeling you get-"

Orin's face froze as blood splattered across his face. His eyes never left Rolan's face as he stood staring at him, dead in the eyes, with an arrow pierced through his mouth. His body lied still for an instant before collapsing dead on the floor.

A shout was heard, breaking Orin from his frozen state as his eyes lifted from Rolan's lifeless corpse to see a man 20 yards away draw another bow and aim towards him. Realizing what was about to happen, Orin took off back towards camp, narrowly missing the shot fired at him.

His lungs felt heavy in his belly as he raced towards the others. He could see torches aflame and hear the clash of steel and it petrified him. His mother was out here and all he cared about was her well-being.

Stumbling onto the scene, Orin was met with 4 soldiers fighting off Lewin and Conin. His mother lay still on the ground, trembling in fear by the other guards dead body.

Every instinct told him to run to her but he had to help. Pulling out his sword, Orin pierced the nearest one from the back, finally getting the attention of everyone else. He didn't have time to stop and wonder if the man was dead as another soon swung towards him.

The steel clashed violently as the two squared off. Orin held his sword high and close, reading for defense as the solider yelled, swinging on the attack once more. He blocked the shot once more and his instincts finally took over.

The soldier was sloppy, and had too many holes, and Orin capitalized on them. Swinging down hard again, Orin side stepped the lazy attack, spinning away and swinging his sword towards the mans calf.

It struck him hard and true as the soldier yelled out in agony, before dropping to one knee. Before he could even get out another word, Orin rounded on him, lifting his head from the back, and cutting his throat to the bone.

"Orin, to your mother!" Lewin shouted, fighting off his man.

Orin turned to him, and tried to yell but it was too late. Lewin's hesitance cost him dearly as the soldier slashed his sword across his chest, tossing him to the ground. Orin wanted to kill the man, but couldn't.

His mother needed him.

Leaving Conin with the last two, he found his mother shivering in fear. He wasn't sure if he even spoke or shouted, but he got her up on her feet and started to sprint with her to safety.

The horses were nearby as they ran towards them. Without even thinking, Orin helped his mother up and readied the horse. "Travel North, get out of here now."

"I'm not leaving you!" "She shouted, hot tears falling from her face.

"There's no time," Orin argued, hearing the steel clash. "I have to help Conin."

Slapping the horse, Orin watched it take off as his mother shouted in protest. He prayed to every god she wouldn't turn back the second she got control to come for him.

Watching from a distance, he saw the horse hit to the road and nearly sighed in relief. Turning, to head back towards Conin, Orin was met with sight of the archer who killed Rolan, pointing his bow towards him, but arrow already shot.

He half expected to be dead but saw the angle of the bow and paled. He didn't even notice the archer draw another bow before he fell from a strike from the back. Conin appeared and shouted something but Orin couldn't hear.

His sword fell from his hands as he turned and sprinted towards the road. It didn't take long to find the horse whining around his mother, who lay on the floor unmoving.

Dreading the worst, Orin collapsed, turning his mother onto his lap, fresh tears in his eyes. There was blood all over his hands as he held her stomach where the arrow hit.

"No no no no," Orin cried, trying his best to stop it. "Please stop, oh gods please."

He didn't even notice the hand on his shoulder as he cried. All he saw was his mother's violet eyes look up at him, unmoving, as her lips parted.

Dropping his head towards hers, Orin shouted in agony, his eyes blurring from the wetness of his tears.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," He repeated, holding her tight, forehead rested against hers. "No no. Please come back. Please!"

Orin held her tight, knowing the first thing had happened. It felt like his heart had been crushed, but as he looked down at his mother, he knew for certain.

She was dead.

And in this moment, so was he.


	12. Chapter 11

Guest: Ashara's death is a huge part into what kind of person Orin will become. So yes she's dead, but her presence is felt through his path for the entire story. Also, where he's going and where hell end up, he can't have her by his side the entire time.

To everyone else, glad to see some of you are shocked by the surprise death last chapter. I hope you aren't too mad about it if some of you are, but it's Game Of Thrones, so you had to at least expect it.

Another shout out to everyone reading and enjoying the story means a lot! Lastly, this is the shortest chapter of the story I think, apologize for that, but a very important one for Orin and what kind of person he'll become in the future. So enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 11

The crack's of the fire was the only comfort in the dying moments of the quiet night. Orin watched it in fascination, as the flames danced along the burnt logs. He'd kept close, trying to keep warm in the colder climate that the Riverlands brought.

Holding his knife close to the flames, he felt the handle grow warm as the steel brightened from the contact. He hadn't said much in the last couple hours, only sat, watching the fire.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Conin asked.

Orin kept his eyes on his knife, not noticing the worried glance of his lone companion. He'd tried to speak before but Orin wouldn't have it. Words of comfort meant nothing right now. Now all he needed were answers.

Giving one last look at the fire, Orin rose, and headed towards the tree where the archer sat. It'd taken all the strength he had not to pierce his heart the moment he found him alive, but he needed answers first.

There wasn't anything very distinctive about him, as Orin crouched to his level, eyeing him. He looked like all the others. Just a tiny shit of a man, pretending to be another great warrior. They all thought there gold and red outfits made them kings. He'd see to it that this lion never had such thoughts again.

Pressing the flat of the blade down hard on his open hand, the man's eyes shot open, his voice betraying him against the muffled cloth jammed down his throat. Violently looking around for the culprit, the archer's eyes met Orin's and widened.

Orin could almost see him begging for mercy as he lifted the blade.

"When I ask the question, you answer," Orin spoke quietly, holding the blade close to the man's face. "Nod if you understand."

The archer's eyes started to water in pain before he slowly nodded.

"Good," Orin began by removing the cloth in his mouth. "Your name?"

"Fuck off," He said hoarsely.

"Not a very good name," Orin smiled, this time, jamming the knife straight into the man's thigh. Blood shot out, covering his hand as he twisted it into the man's leg.

"OHHH fucking hell, stop," He cried, jolting hard against the rope trying to break free. "Micha, my names Micha."

Removing the knife, Orin nodded." Very good."

"Orin," Conin approached tentatively from the back. "Perhaps we should go."

"Not until I'm finished," Orin turned, glaring at him. "Leave us."

"Orin please…"

"Leave us," He repeated. He watched the knight eye the prisoner before nodding. The disappointment was evident but Orin did not care. Turning back to his guest, he continued. "I hope you understand that you're going to die today Micha. How painful it is will be up to you. You with me so far?"

Through his pain, Micha managed a small nod.

"You're a rare man," Orin whispered, eyeing his features. Dark hair, dark eyes, lots of sweat covered his dirty face, and his chin looked like fat mans arse. "D'you know that?"

"How so?" He whispered, his eyes never leaving the blade in his hands.

Orin rested the point of the knife close to the open gash on his leg and explained. "I never thought I'd meet the man who took everything from me."

The haunting look of his mother's violet eyes nearly caused him to kill the man right then and there. Gripping the knife tight, Orin checked his emotions best he could.

"Why'd you attack us?" He asked finally.

Micha coughed, a bit of blood starting to come out as he spoke. "Orders."

"Your orders are to attack and kill innocent people," Orin gritted, his anger starting to get the best of him.

"It's the Riverlands boy," Micha smirked through bloodied teeth. "There are no innocent, not when this shit kingdom is in open rebellion."

"Who gave you the orders?"

Looking down, Micha laughed. "You stupid? Don't' recognize the kings colors? You won't last long out here once I'm done. Must be one of Starks bannermen. Only northerners can be this stupid. You a Stark boy? Maybe one of Umber's dumb cunt nephews? Following orders under that wolf prick?"

Orin's eyes flashed, jamming the knife into the Micha's knee. He watched him scream in agony, as he pressed harder, hoping he suffered every second of it.

Letting go, Orin left the knife in the man's leg, before he brought his face closer. "Aye, I'm a Stark, but I'm not the one who fucked up. You made a terrible mistake the moment you fired the arrow that killed my mother."

Micha matched his stare, eyeing him without remorse, before he smiled. "Good."

"Poor choice of words."

Pulling the knife out with speed he didn't realize he possessed, Orin jammed it straight into the man's throat, so deep the dagger pierced the trunk of the tree. He couldn't peel his eyes away as Micha choked on his own blood. Seconds passed before he slumped down dead, but Orin took in every detail.

It wasn't right, nor honorable, but watching the man who killed his mother die was the most satisfying thing he felt in a long time.

* * *

"You alright?" Conin asked, as the two watched the pyre burn.

Orin ignored the knight, too focused on watching as the body of his mother burned. Now alone with his thoughts, with no one left to kill, the weight of it finally hit him. His mother was gone, dead, and all he could feel was this constant pain in his chest.

She was dead because of him. His stupidity and stubbornness got her killed. Of all the bad things to happen to him in his life, growing up without a father, learning the truth, his stolen heritage, this was the worst thing. She was the only good constant in his life and he failed her.

Tears covered his eyes once more as he looked on. "It's my fault she's gone."

"Don't say such things," Conin rounded on him, spinning him roughly so he could look him in the eye. He'd never seen the knight so angry as he held his shoulders hard. "This is not your fault. Do you here me? This is not on you."

"I was terrible to her," Orin whispered, remembering how cruel he was in the final days together. "The last thing I said to her was that I didn't trust her. How can I live with that?"

"She loved you Orin. Do you really think your mother would hang that over your head? All her life was spent caring and loving you. A few words you didn't mean can't take that away."

Orin felt the only person he had left pull him in tight for a hug as the fire continued to burn. He had no one left. The only person that mattered to either of them was gone and all they could do was watch her body burn.

"I don't know what to do anymore," Orin murmured.

Holding his shoulder, Conin smiled sadly at him. "I cannot decide that for you. I wish it were simple, but it isn't. But know this, whatever you do you're not alone. Where you go, I do to."

"Thank you." Without Conin, Orin imagined he'd have thrown himself into the fire and just be done with it. It almost would have been a mercy then to suffer the pain he was feeling of losing her. "She deserved better then this. All her life trying to make a better world for me, and this is how it ends. She never should have put her faith in me."

"You're mother believed in you," Conin tried to reason.

"How could she?" Orin wondered, looking around at the mess they were in. "This is where I led us."

Conin only smiled before turning to one of the nearby horses. Orin recognized the horse that his mother had rode as the knight searched through one of the packs hanging on the horse's side. A few moments later, Orin watched the knight return with long wrapped up blanket, before offering it to him.

"She planned on giving this to you herself," Conin explained, slowly unwrapping the cloth. The sheet gave way and Orin was met with the familiar sight of the most famous sword in the entire world. Dawn lay neatly rolled up, sitting there like any other blade. "The last memory of the Dayne family is this sword, and your mother trusted you with it."

"I'm not a Dayne," Orin whispered, trying his best to refuse it. "Nor a knight."

"And your mother gave it to you anyways," Conin confirmed. "The most important possession in her name, and she wanted to give it to the most important person to her."

Orin slowly ran his fingers against the pale steel of the blade. Never in his life had he seen a sword come close to the look and feel of Dawn. The unmistakable whiteness of the sword was mesmerizing.

Once more he looked up unsure, but saw Conin's hard stare. His mother's final gift to him was one he did not deserve, but it was also the last thing that belonged to the Dayne family. They were all gone, with only him left, and the sword was the last thing his family would be remembered by.

Thinking about the empty look in his mother's eyes, Orin gripped the handle of the blade, lifting it. He knew he had many choices, but only one of them was the right one. It wouldn't be easy, but he refused to honor his mother's sacrifice by giving in.

"She spent her life protecting me," Orin stated, his eyes never leaving Dawn. "I failed to do the same for her, but I will not fail her in death. No matter how long it takes, I will get justice for her. Ready your horse Ser Conin, we ride for the Twins."


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Aside from the fresh water smell coming from the river, there wasn't much that made the Twins all that enticing. It wasn't warm like Dorne, the castle wasn't large like Kings Landing, and if Orin was being honest, the land just looked dead and dreary.

That wasn't to say that all the Riverlands held the same standards as the Twins. Orin and Ser Conin had rode hard, but had seen Riverrun from a distance and could appreciate the castle for what it was.

Hopefully the Frey's held up better then the lands they owned.

Off in the distance, as they rounded a hill to get a better look, Orin could already see the northerner army surrounding most of the lands around the closest castle. The sun was setting and off in the distance the sound of men laughing and singing could be heard.

"I hope we aren't too late for the wedding," Conin mumbled.

"I didn't take you for a romantic Conin," Orin questioned, his first smile in four days.

He watched the knight roll his eyes before the two took off down the road. As they got closer, more men started to appear and Orin couldn't help but marvel at the amount. He'd never seen so many soldiers at once, and could only wonder what they looked like on the battlefield.

The deeper they got, the better looks he had, and all he could wonder was how some of these men were still alive. Most looked like soldiers, but others, the old, and the young, they shouldn't have been here.

A group of men sat around a campfire as they started to slow their pace and Orin watched as the youngest of the men, who mustn't have been older then 14 took a sip of ale before spitting it out in disgust. The others laughed as his misfortune but all Orin could feel was pity.

Was this how his mother saw it whenever he trained? The constant thought that her boy could die in battle when he had no reason of being there in the first place? He respected the men, all of them; he just never realized how it would actually be.

"The King's got many banner men," Conin noticed, looking at all the banners hanging around the camp.

"Aye he does," Orin recognized a few, but so many were foreign to him. He really should have paid more attention when he was being taught about all the noble houses of Westeros. "Hopefully it's enough."

The two finally reached the gate doors of the castle where a man met them hesitantly. Orin tried not to look to surprised, but the mans attire was just too ridiculous not to notice. Atop his head sat what apparently went for helmets in these lands, but looked more like a half woven skirt. His armor was uneven and nearly broken, and Orin was pretty sure the man's sword hadn't been sharpened in years.

"Is this what guards look like in the North?" Orin whispered.

"For the Frey's," Conin answered quickly, before the man approached. "Good day to you. My name is Ser Conin Ashwood of Starfall. To who do I owe the pleasure?"

"Guldrin?" The man half answered.

Orin wasn't sure if that was an answer or the man was just stupid, but tried to his best to mask his annoyance. "We're under orders from Lady Dayne to seek an audience with Robb Stark, the King in the North. If you could point us in the right direction?"

"The fucks a Dornishmen doing all the way up here?" Guldrin muttered. He eyed the horses, wondering what the two were carrying.

Feeling insulted and on edge, Orin's hands curled around the reigns of his horse, wanting to cut down the man for his idiocy.

"Guldrin is it?" Conin asked, as the man nodded. "Perhaps we can speak to Lady Stark, or Lord Bolton? Someone maybe with…"

"Listen here 'ser'," Guldrin stressed, the smell of wine clear in his breath. "I don't take orders from you."

"Is your job solely insulting your guests," Orin questioned, his anger fully evident. "Or is it to insult your house? I'm not sure."

"What'd you say!"

"Oh would you shut it!" A voice stormed, as a man in black armor strode towards them. A deep scowl was on his face as he eyed Guldrin with distain. "I swear, one more dumb word comes out your mouth, I'll throw you off your own damn bridge."

Guldrin's face dropped as he eyed the old man. Orin wondered if maybe this was Lord Frey, but quickly noticed the black fish sigil on his clothing and thought against it. He didn't know them all, but when it came to the great houses, Orin instantly recognized the sigil for house Tully.

"Off with you," The man said, glaring at the useless guard. The three watched Guldrin relent before walking off with a sneer. Clearly the old man was proud, as he smiled slightly before turning to them. "Didn't realize house Dayne was interested in my nephew's wedding. Can't say I'm all the interested as well, but it is curious to see you so far North."

"Blackfish," Conin realized, eyeing the man. He'd never had the pleasure but new of the man's history quite well.

"We know each other?"

"Ser Conin Ashwood of Starfall. I'm under orders from Lady Dayne to ask for an audience with the King in the North."

"Why?"

If this was how difficult it would be to see Robb Stark, Orin wondered what the point was. He was better off just sneaking into the castle then being held at the door by everyone person who questioned his appearance.

"I'm sorry Ser, but I cannot disclose that information with you without the King in the North's presence."

Orin watched the man named Blackfish watch them carefully. He wondered how he could even see them with his eyes shut so close and the constant look of distain on his face. Perhaps he looked at everybody like he wanted to kill them.

"Just you two?" He asked.

Conin nodded. "Just us."

"Very well, best hurry, the wedding ceremony will be upon us shortly. "

Orin was surprised as the man led them away from the castle and towards the camp once more. It seemed rather odd that the King in these lands was being held out of the comfort of castle walls and left to stay amongst his men.

 _Maybe Robb preferred the company of his comrades._ Orin thought.

Following the Blackfish through the camp, Orin slowed a little, keeping up in step with Conin. "Not very trusting are they?"

"If you were rebelling on the south, and a southern house appeared during the wedding of one of your banner men, wouldn't you question it?"

It was a fair point. There wasn't much trust in war, and Orin imagined he'd come to learn that very quickly. It did seem rather suspicious but he would like to think if he were going to his attack his enemy's by surprise, he wouldn't be dumb enough to announce his name.

"Do I have to take that from you?" Blackfish asked as he stopped in front of one of the bigger tents.

Orin saw the man glance at their swords. "There won't be any trouble."

Blackfish stared hard at Conin as he answered but relented. "Quickly now."

The two watched the man disappear into the tent before they dismounted. They weren't sure what exactly they were supposed to do but hurriedly found a place to tie their horses before following the man inside.

Realization started to set in, as Orin finally comprehended what he was about to do. He'd either change the outlook of Robb Starks life, or end up in a cell for insulting the kings intelligence.

Not bothering to admire the inside of the Kings courters, Orin walked slowly towards where the Blackfish stood and stared. Inside the tent standing behind a war table, a man younger then him stood watching them.

He didn't need an introduction to know that this was Robb Stark. He didn't see much of Ned Stark in him, but even with his auburn hair and blue eyes, he knew it to be him. It was the look he gave him, the same look a Lord gave to the people under him. Not a look of distaste, but a look that made them understand that he was in charge.

An older woman, who Robb clearly favored, stood beside him, which made Orin deduce her as Catelyn Stark, his aunt by marriage. Unlike Robb however, Orin noticed her distressed look as she watched him with wide eyes.

There were others in the room, but Orin could only focus on the two that he'd come to see. His family by blood.

"Your Grace, Lady Dayne of Starfall sent these two men to seek you out," Blackfish began, gesturing towards them. "Ser Conin Ashwood and…what was your name?"

"Orin."

Even his name sounded strange as he said it, but Orin was just too confused to say anything else. So many things came rushing to his head as he felt the weight of the things he'd soon say crumble on top of him.

Robb watched him intently before turning to one of the men in the room. "Lord Bolton, please see to it my uncle meets here before the feast. I wish to speak to him before hand."

"Of course your grace," The man said, pushing the other one next to him along as they left the tent.

Now alone, Orin watched as Robb turned to them. "I did not expect too see House Dayne represented at my uncle's wedding."

"We aren't here for the wedding," Orin explained.

"Then why are you here?"

Orin turned to Conin who only nodded for him to continue before looking back. "My mother sent me too seek you out."

"Your mother?" Catelyn spoke for the first time, her eyes still searching over Orin.

"Lady Dayne."

The air in the room dropped as no one said a word. It was almost uncomfortable as the five of them stared at one another. Orin almost wished he'd never come, seeing the faces each of them made, but was far more concerned with Lady Stark.

Her eyes had widened at the revelation of who his mother was before she sat down. Her small body started to shake before she spoke again quietly.

"What's your name?" She whispered, tears almost coming to her eyes.

Robb ignored her question as he spun to her, a look of worry on his face. "Mother what's wrong?"

"Your name," Catelyn said louder.

Orin felt his pulse quicken before he spoke softly. "Orin Stark."

He watched in silence as the three strangers turned to him with wide eyes and confused looks. He imagined he must have had the same look on his face in that moment, but tried his best to act normal.

The room was silent for a bit before Catelyn Stark choked on her breath before pointing at him. "No."

Robb, doing his best to watch over his mother rounded on him, anger in his eyes. "Who are you?"

Orin saw the Blackfish drop his hand towards his sword, ready for his king's command. "My name is Orin Stark. I'm Brandon Starks son."

The two cousins eyed each other, both trying to read the situation best they could. Orin could see the distress the conversation was having on Catelyn but knew there was nothing he could do. They were all feeling the same thing right now, just from different sides.

"Uncle can we have the room please," Catelyn whispered, her eyes still never leaving Orin.

Without another word, the Blackfish left, leaving them four. Orin understood, turning to Conin who simply nodded before following the other man out the room. Now all alone, Orin took a step forward.

"I'm telling the truth."

"Do you take me for an idiot?" Robb demanded, walking past the table to confront him. Even standing well beneath him, Orin could see the strength the man had. He was a battle proven warrior, and he came across as that as well. "You come to me with these lies…"

"It's not a lie," Orin argued, staring him down.

"And I'm supposed to believe your word?"

Orin shook his head, pulling out the only thing that held any meaning. "Not mine, but maybe your fathers."

The mention of her late husband was enough to break the initial shock Catelyn Stark was feeling as she quickly sprinted out of her chair to snatch the letter from Orin's hand. It didn't take her very long as her eyes scanned over every word of the tiny message Ned had left him.

He'd read it a dozen times since he'd first seen it, and even now it still felt like a dream. Two weeks ago he was Orin Sand, and now, now everything had changed.

Orin watched as a few tears came from Catelyn's eyes before she choked back a sob. Robb was just as confused as he gently took the letter and read the words himself.

"This can't be," Robb whispered, reading the letter. His hands were shaking as he looked up to stare Orin down. "This is my father's writing. Where did you get this?"

"My mother gave it to me before we left Starfall."

"And where is Lady Dayne?" Catelyn spoke finally. "How come she did not come herself?"

Feeling his own emotions stir a little, Orin slowly took back the letter, before turning to Catelyn. "We traveled north together, but we were attacked by Lannister soldiers during the night. She was killed in the battle."

The two stiffened at the news.

"I'm sorry," Robb quietly said, his eyes softening. "It's…it's a lot to take in. It's a bit complicated, you must see that."

"I do," Orin agreed.

Once again the room was quiet as they all mulled over what had been said. Neither knew where that left them, each understanding the magnitude of Brandon Stark having a son.

"You look like him," Catelyn whispered, her eyes too softening.

Smiling gratefully, Orin nodded. "I wouldn't know My Lady, I never got the chance to meet him."

"I don't understand," Robb stated confused. "How could father have kept this from us? From you mother?"

Orin spoke before Catelyn could. "My mother begged him not to. She never wanted me to leave Starfall, knowing if world got out, your father would have no choice but to take me."

It was painful to watch as the mother and son realized that the man they both loved had lied to them for so long. He didn't do it for glory, or to seize the north for himself, he did it because of the love a mother had for her child. His image tarnished to keep Orin safe.

"I understand this is difficult," Orin started.

"Difficult?" Robb repeated. He turned to his desk, shaking his head. "Everything instinct is telling me to lock you away in a cell."

"I know," Orin agreed.

Once again they stood in silence. Robb's emotions were to be expected, but Orin had been more concerned of Lady Catelyn's reaction. His mother had said that Brandon Stark had been promised to her, and he hoped he wouldn't suffer the consequences of that failed romance.

Thankfully Lady Catelyn seemed a bit pre occupied on the task in hand rather then the messy origins of his birth.

"Are you here for Winterfell?" Robb asked suddenly.

"Robb!" Catelyn tuned on her son in shock.

"If the other Lords find out, what claim do I have?" He tried to reason. "Uncle Edmure has to marry Roslin Frey but the moment this gets out, what's to say Walder Frey changes his mind and decides to support the rightful heir. Then what?"

Orin's eyes widened as the two discussed marriage and claims. "I do not want either."

"What?" Robb rounded on him confused.

"They chose you," Orin stated, gesturing outside. "Those men out there believe in you, not me. You're their King, and the Lord of Winterfell, not me."

"It's yours by right," Robb argued.

"I'm giving up my claim to it," Orin said.

The last thing he came here for was to be crowned Lord of Winterfell. He didn't need lands or titles or the support of thousands of men. That's not what he wanted, not now, not ever. He'd be damned if he sacrificed his mothers life just so he could claim what was rightfully his.

"Then why are you here?" Catelyn wondered, a little confused.

Orin thought long and hard, remembering what he'd lost to get here. "My mother was the only person I had for the longest time. I never thought I would have anyone else and for a long time I was perfectly fine with that. But then I found out the truth, and I knew I could not sit by and pretend to be fine any longer."

Turning to Robb, Orin's face-hardened.

"Our fathers were brothers, and they were both murdered by terrible kings. My mother was killed on the orders of a terrible king. I did not come here seeking your lands and titles, I came here to help you get justice for our family."


	14. Chapter 13

**Jgs237: Thanks for the great review. As for who'll pair with Orin, I have an idea; I just don't want to spoil it. Unless others start asking and don't mind being spoiled, I'll keep it hidden for now…**

 **Thank you to all the others who reviewed, it's great to hear positive feedback, so thank you for it. And to all the other readers, thank you as well for sticking with the story.**

 **Onto the next chapter…**

* * *

Chapter 13

Taking a much-needed sip of wine, Orin relished the taste. It'd been an hour since he had broken the news and things had still been quite tense in the tent. He wasn't in chains yet so he supposed that was a good enough start. Conin and the Blackfish had both come back along with Robb's wife, Talisa. There were very brief introductions before the queen took her spot by her husband and regarded Orin with uncertainty.

They all regarded him with that very look. Even now as they sat, trying best to figure out the next move. Everyone wanted to speak but no one knew the right words to say.

"A letter doesn't prove anything," The Blackfish narrowed his eyes at him.

"You take me for a liar?" Orin matched his stare.

The black armored Knight scowled. "I take you for a stranger during a time of war. In my experience, most men like that do not last very long."

"Choose your words carefully Ser Bryden," Conin interjected. "I will not tolerate threats directed at Lady Dayne's son and heir."

The Blackfish smiled. "Do you wish to die today Ser? You're surrounded."

"All the same, I will not tolerate it."

"Enough." The room's attention turned to Robb as he stood. The confusion on his face matched the others as he tried to diffuse the tension. "It's true."

"But how could you know for sure?" Talisa asked.

Robb nodded towards Orin. "Only a fool would bring accusations like that and not expect to be put in chains if it were false. It's my fathers writing, I know it is."

"That still does not answer what we should do with him," The Blackfish mused.

"How many capable fighting men does Starfall have?" Robb questioned.

Orin shifted uncomfortably. He knew he would be asked to send his army towards the northern cause but also understood it was a difficult subject. Whether or not he truly was the Lord of Starfall now that his mother was gone was of little consequence. The true hurdle lied with the fact that House Starfall was pledged to House Martell. They could not break that trust.

"Not enough to make a difference." Orin also knew the truth of it all. As proud and noble his mother's house was, they did not command the number of great soldiers like most did. "But I am not here representing Starfall's interest. I cannot command its soldiers to your cause without breaking our vow to House Martell."

"Then what you offer is your service alone?" Catelyn's eyes betrayed her. "Forgive me but one man cannot win this war."

Orin understood their skepticism. "I understand that My Lady, that is why I came here with the intention of brining Dorne into the fold."

"How?" Robb's eyes widened at the prospect of another great kingdom helping him defeat his enemy for good.

"Prince Oberyn plans on accepting the King's invitation to the royal wedding," Orin explained. "I will travel back to Kings Landing and sway him into helping fight for your cause."

He already knew of Prince Oberyn's hatred for the Lannisters and hoped to use that as a catalyst to convince him. Ultimately Prince Doran held all the power but with the North rallied with him, perhaps he would see it as a winning side.

"And if he refuses?" Robb asked.

"Then I'll kill Tywin Lannister myself."

Orin felt Conin turn of him quickly, anger all over his face. "That was not the plan we discussed."

"It's the only one that makes the most sense," Orin argued. He thought of it countless time during the trip north and knew it would work. "Tywin Lannister holds the true power in Kings Landing. The moment he dies, the Lannisters lose that power."

"You wish for me to send you to Kings Landing to assassinate the Hand of the King?"

Orin turned to Robb. "This war will continue to kill innocent people the longer you wait to act. I did not come here seeking your leave to go. I came to help bring justice to our family. This is how I can help."

Robb eyed him hard, wondering if he was mad or just foolish. "You really think you can just kill Tywin Lannister."

"All men bleed the same way," Orin countered.

"You can't." Lady Stark spoke softly but sternly as she explained. "My daughter Sansa still resides in the capital as a hostage. The second Tywin dies, she does to."

Ned Stark's eldest daughter's name dampened the mood on everyone. Orin had completely forgot that one of the Stark children was still held captive in the capital. A girl, his cousin, was being held against her will by the monsters that killed his mother.

"How do you plan on getting her back and winning the war?"

It was a fair question and one that seemed impossible. If they chose to storm the capital, Sansa died, if there was a chance Tywin would allow his forces to meet in battle and lost, she died.

"My mother sent Jaime Lannister to Kings Landing as a gesture of good faith to trade for my sister," Robb explained. The look between him and his mother wasn't lost on Orin. "We've yet to receive any word."

"And you trust Tywin Lannister to give you back your sister?" Conin asked. He didn't know the man personally, but Conin knew enough to know that Tywin wouldn't let go of the only leverage he had against the north.

"This war has had its share of mistakes," Robb admitted. A soulful look was passed between him and his confidants before he hardened. "But my mothers right. You can't go to Kings Landing. If you go, Sansa dies. We've already lost too much."

Orin thought of Robb's other siblings and understood. He couldn't imagine the pain of losing a sibling, or Lady Stark losing her children, but understood there reasoning. There last chance of getting their only family back rested on a man who broke his most sacred vow and killed the king he was sworn to protect.

It seemed rather comical that the only hope Robb had of getting his sister back rested in the hands of a Lannister. It seemed the world was filled with those tiny bit of ironies.

It was a difficult decision and Orin wondered what his mother would have done. She had spent her life protecting him, her only family, and went as far as lying to do so. Whether he agreed with it or not, Orin knew how fierce his mother was to protecting the only thing that mattered to her.

She would have done anything, and Orin knew he would have to do the same to get justice for her.

"You can't trust Jaime Lannister," Orin stated. That much was obvious. "I'll go to Kings Landing, but not to kill the Hand. I'll save your sister, and then together will destroy those who took everything from us."

"I can't risk it," Robb mumbled. "If you're caught..."

"Then I die, not Sansa" Orin reasoned. "They won't kill her, she's too important to them now."

Catelyn's brow furrowed. "How do you mean?"

It was morbid he knew, but with all the Stark children presumed dead, everything fell on Sansa should something happen to Robb.

"If your family is really gone, then Sansa's the next in line after you your grace. They plan on seeing your head on a spike, not only does that end the rebellion, but it gives them the key to the north."

* * *

Orin was finishing up his bag as he prepared his horse. It would be a long ride, but they'd make it in less then a fortnight if luck were on their side. He'd been dismissed a short while ago as the family began preparing for Edmure Tully's wedding ceremony. He'd been offered to stay for the feast but after they all agreed in Orin's plan, he thought it'd be best not to delay anymore time.

Only the occupants in the tent had known of Orin's plan and his true name, as disclosing that to anyone would be a hindrance in his attempt of saving Sansa. If world got back to the capital that Orin Sand was really Orin Stark, the moment they laid eyes on him at the wedding, he'd be thrown in jail.

If they were kind.

The more likelihood of a beheading was all but certain, and as of now, he had no plans to follow his mother to the grave.

He pondered what his mother would think of what he and Conin planned on doing. Would she condemn him for being rash and stupid and walking into the place that caused the demise to nearly his entire family? Or would she be proud that he was willing to risk his own life to save his cousin?

 _Probably a bit of both._ Orin thought, with a sad look.

The sound of a cleared throat shook Orin from his thoughts as he turned to see Catelyn Stark regarding him. He wasn't entirely sure of the woman, or what she thought of him. His father was betrothed to her a long time ago and wondered if maybe she distrusted him.

"Lady Stark," Orin greeted

She smiled, a look of doubt on her face. "Apologies, but I don't know what to call you."

It was a fair point. All his life he'd been Orin Sand, but now who was he. Lord Stark? Lord Sand? Dayne? He didn't know, but as he watched the many men walk around him in the camp, he knew his actual name shouldn't have been discussed.

"Orin's fine, if it pleases you My Lady. I'm not entirely sure myself, but I haven't earned my fathers name, nor my mothers."

"Yet you carry that." Following her gaze, his eyes rested on his sword. "I imagine many of these men wouldn't even think to notice that sword, but my husband spoke very highly of Ser Arthur Dayne in the years past. Ashara must have had plenty of faith in you to pass Dawn down to you."

"Too much."

Catelyn smiled at his honesty. "Very unlike Brandon. He was many things, but timid was not one of them."

"You think I'm timid?" He'd been many things, but timid wasn't a word Orin would use to describe himself.

"Most men would kill to wield that sword," Catelyn remembered the stories of how sought out Dawn truly was. "And most would jump at the opportunity to claim the north."

"I'm not like most men."

"No, you aren't," Catelyn regarded him again in a different light. He could see the strain of war on her face and couldn't help but admire her for it. Man or woman, to go through what she had lost and to keep fighting, it was that bravery that made strong people.

"I do not know what's to come in the coming war," Catelyn continued, stepping closer to him. He could see the fear in her eyes. "But please, protect my daughter. Help her. She might be the only thing Robb and I have left."

The memory of his mother flashed over him as he watched Catelyn Stark break down. Whatever choices either made, it was clear that the love a mother had for her children was unlike anything else. The things they would do to protect them went above right and wrong. All that was left was protecting them, by any means necessary.

"I'll find her," Orin promised her. Had she asked him anything in this moment he would have done it, for the look she gave him, all he could see was his mother. "I'll get her to safety, I promise you."

"Mother." Turning, the two watched as Robb walked towards them. "Uncle Edmure wanted to see you before the ceremony began."

"Probably to convince me not to go along with it," Catelyn smiled at him. Looking back at Orin, she bid him farewell before leaving.

Robb gave his mother's arm a gentle squeeze before the two were left alone. They were strangers to each other, but something had passed between them. Orin wasn't sure what it was, respect, or trust, but he admired the way Robb held himself.

"Quite the feast you have going," Orin noticed. The party would soon be in full swing, as some of the more liberal men had already begun themselves. He could hear the laughter and banter in the background of the camp.

"Lord Frey has been looking forward to this day for quite sometime it would seem."

Orin hadn't met the man, but nodded anyways. "I suppose so."

Once more the two stared down one another, before Robb laughed. "I must be a fool, trusting you with my sisters life. I don't know you."

"Then we're fools together." He couldn't help but match Robb's smile. "I don't know if I'll leave Kings Landing with my head still on my shoulders."

"For my sisters sake, I hope your wrong." Robb thought for a moment. "And yours."

It wasn't a declaration of acceptance, but Orin appreciated the gesture. "My mother taught me how important family was. I'll bring her home, I swear it."

Orin was a little surprised when Robb offered his hand. The king did not ask for favors, he commanded, but here he was, depending on Orin for what was quite the most dangerous task he'd trust in a man.

Shaking his hand, Orin bowed his head. "Farewell your grace."

"And you," Robb began, a small smile forming on his lips. "Lord Stark."


	15. Chapter 14

**Jgs237: That'd be cool, but Orin's a Stark, and unlike Jon, there's no secret Targaryen lineage hiding away. So he'd have a better chance finding a Direwolf then a dragon. But will see, who knows, maybe it'll fit….**

 **Judotroy: Absolutely, could have saved himself some time and more importantly his mother's life. But there are two reasons why I decided on him going, first, Orin's rash, he doesn't think proper strategy. He'll do what he thinks is best regardless of the consequences. When he found out the truth, the only thing he wanted was to travel north and meet the Starks. He was mad at his mother, mad at Oberyn, mad at everyone he held dear, so he wanted to get away from them. Traveling north to meet his other family was the only real option. I didn't want him in Kings Landing with the state of mind he was in after he found out the truth. Second, I wanted him to have an emotional tie to the Starks. He hardly spent anytime with Robb and Cat, that's true, but he finally got to meet someone who understands the pain he feels. There was a connection, and because of that, he now feels a bit more tied to the Stark name then before. Hopefully this clears it up, if not, just call it a huge plot hole hahahahaha…..**

 **777MAR777: Sorry you feel that way, but I also think its wrong to assume that all men would act a certain way in that circumstance. I understand that many would, and for that I agree, but not all people, or men, do. However you are entitled to your opinion. I wouldn't want to read a story that I couldn't connect with on a certain level as well. I just wanted to say thanks for reading up until then, and I'm sorry to see you go.**

 **To all the other readers, hopefully you're enjoying the story as much as I am writing it. I understand some might have issues with it, and hopefully I can do my best in fixing them. And if you're loving the story, great, hopefully I can keep up that response.**

* * *

Chapter 14

Two weeks without his mother's guidance started to weigh heavily down on Orin as he contemplated what to do next. A lifetime spent depending on her words and wisdom, seeking out her comfort, and all he had to show of it was the constant memory of her pale face looking up at him dead.

The notion of failure consumed him as he remembered her, and he wondered in their dying moments, if Robb and Catelyn Stark felt the same way. Loss followed him around like a cruel joke, and every day that passed, it got worse.

It almost felt like a dream, a terrible one he couldn't' wake from. How was it possible that this much suffering could come to him and his family? Was it a test? Maybe he was supposed to give in and die like the rest of them.

At one point did the suffering become too much to bear?

Closing his eyes, he pictured the frightened faces of Robb and Lady Catelyn as the men that followed them took up arms against them. Murdered during a feast, the greatest and most sacred vow broken to destroy the northern rebellion.

His mother trusted him, and she died, Robb and Catelyn trusted him, and they suffered the same fate.

Orin remembered the way he shook violently trying to free himself from Conin's grasp. All he wanted to do was turn back and slaughter them all. He'd kill every last one of them. The Boltons, the Freys, everyone he'd get his hands on.

Now, the north was lost, the Boltons ruled, and all his family was gone. The north's victory was his last chance at finding a reason to keep living. All he had now were terrible memories and the stupid hope of saving Sansa Stark.

She was the only sure thing he had and he was convinced she was better off never knowing him. It seemed death followed him, and he'd do best to leave her be. Yet he'd sworn to protect her.

The last living Stark, alone in the world, just like him.

"We can travel to Essos perhaps?" Ser Conin said on the road. "There's no shame in losing Orin."

Losing.

Loss.

Those were words meant for children playing a game. He imagined his enemies, all those who gained from his loss, were proud to have won the game. Their smirks glistening over their victory. They must have all felt like powerful men.

Burning men alive, strangling fathers, beheading others, killing mothers in their children's arms, slaughtering families while they ate. Great conquerors they were.

If he chose to do nothing, his family would be forgotten, and the men and woman responsible, would never find justice.

"I can't Ser Conin," Orin had said; turning to the only person he had left. Dawn weighed on his hip, almost like a constant reminder of his purpose. "She's alone in the world, just as I am. I refuse to let the only family I have left die in the home of our enemies. I don't have a choice."

"Then neither do I," Conin smiled at him sadly.

"I can't ask you to come," Orin argued. "I won't have your death on my hands. I've lost too much."

"You have it in you to make the difficult choice. The ones no one else sees. But you do it, because it's the right one. If you're strong enough to do that, then I have to believe that I'm strong enough to follow you. Whatever you chose, I will follow you, no matter what."

Orin smiled gratefully at the man who'd been the only father he had growing up. He was glad to have someone who still believed in him as much as Ser Conin did. It gave him the sense that the world hadn't gone to complete shit yet. If there were still men brave enough to die for the right cause, then there had to be men strong enough to see it through.

)))

The lion banner waved proudly in the streets of Kings Landing as Orin ventured deeper into the capital. He would have burned down each and every one given the chance, but his life wasn't perfect. He'd pick his battles smartly, and gods willing, he'd burn down the real lions of this shit city.

Nearly two years ago he stood amongst these people in awe. He was just another boy from some faraway city who'd come to see the people who ruled over them. For a brief moment, he remembered that he envied these people.

How times had changed.

He could feel the excitement of the city for the upcoming wedding. It's all he heard when he'd walk past people. Peasants, commoners, nobles, they all held the same idea that the wedding would be a glorious event, for a glorious king. Were these people so ignorant that they couldn't see the cruelty there king had caused.

"When did people start putting their trust in vicious idiots?" Orin mumbled, mostly to himself.

Conin led the way, not bothering to turn towards him. "You'd imagine these people would have learned after the mad king."

"Perhaps we're destined to repeat the same mistakes in the past, over and over again."

"I can't imagine a more terrible thing to see."

"I can," Orin whispered.

Continuing their walk deeper into the city, the two made their way towards the only place they knew they would find help. In a city full of idiots and enemies, they needed people they could depend on, even if it didn't seem likely they'd find that.

Thankfully someone they both trusted had made it to Kings Landing before them. It's partially why they were here in the city, and definitely why they stood outside Peter Baelish's brothel.

Orin had never stepped inside one before as Conin led the way, but knew all about them. A few of the guards back home had their own special place in a town near Starfall, and if he remembered correctly, Rydan had spoken highly about it as well.

Still, he felt rather uncomfortable as he passed all the nude ladies who watched in interest. Some were lying around, others occupied with men, and some even with women. Seemed there was a flavor for every taste in the city.

"You sure he's here?" Orin asked as they entered another room.

"Trust me he's here."

Throwing back the sheet that covered one of the rooms; Orin spotted the Prince of Dorne in bed with half a dozen people. To his surprise none of them acted shocked at the intrusion, but more so curious, as if expecting someone else to join in anyways.

Orin met Oberyn's eyes and the room fell silent.

"Out, everyone," He insisted, the smile he usually had gone from his face.

The girls and one boy quickly rose, leaving the room in haste without a second glance. All that remained was the Prince and his paramour, Ellaria Sand.

"Orin," Oberyn whispered, rising from the bed. The last time they'd seen each other hadn't ended well, with Orin storming off after learning the truth. "You're alright?"

"Not really," Orin admitted.

Oberyn nodded as if understanding. "Where is your mother."

"Dead."

The room fell silent as the prince stiffened at the news. Even now, in the presence of those he knew so well, Orin felt empty at the truth. He imagined the prince felt similar, knowing all to well how long they'd known each other. His mother had always trusted Prince Oberyn and considered him a dear friend.

"Can you give us a moment Ellaria?" Oberyn asked gently.

Ellaria nodded quickly, seeing the sadness in Oberyn's face. Collecting her things, she moved swiftly towards the exit, but not before stopping in front of Orin, and cupping his face with mournful eyes.

"I'm so sorry child," She whispered, and left a moment after.

Orin was grateful before he turned to Conin, asking him for some privacy with the prince. Alone, both with his mother's death on their minds, Oberyn spoke first.

"How?" He asked, stepping closer.

He could hear the sadness in his voice. "Lannister soldiers. She died in my arms."

"I'm sorry Orin. Sorry that she's gone, and sorry you had to see it."

"I think about that day," Orin began, remembering when everything changed. "In the gardens. Listening to the both of you speak. I remember the anger I felt. And they way I treated her afterwards. That's how I remember her. Not the laughs we had, or the love we shared, or the way she sang me to sleep every night until I was four, but the way I shunned her for trying to protect me."

All the prince could do was shake his head slowly. "I'm sorry."

"You knew the truth all along, about who I was, what I am." Oberyn didn't bother to deny it. "Maybe if I never walked in on the two of you, things would be different. My mother might be alive, the Starks would still be breathing."

"You don't know that," Oberyn argued. "Bad things happen Orin, to good people. It'll never stop, no matter how much you try. All you can do is bring those responsible to an end."

"Is that why you're here?" Orin questioned. "To get justice for your sister."

"The Lannisters have wronged both of us," Oberyn deflected. "I'm here for the same reasons you are."

Shaking his head, Orin looked around the room soulfully. "No, not anymore. When my mother died, all I wanted to was to storm the capital and kill every Lannister I could get my hands on, and truth be told, I can still feel that anger burning deep inside me. But I'm not here for vengeance. I promised Robb Stark I'd take his sister to safety."

"Robb Stark is dead," Oberyn pointed out.

"But Sansa isn't," Orin countered. "I can still get her to safety."

"Why are you telling me this?" Oberyn wondered. "I thought you'd be angry at me."

"I'm tired of being angry," Orin snapped. He caught the prince off guard with his outburst. "I'm tired of feeling sad. I'm tired of failing. I can still do right by her, and to do it, I need your help."

"Do you understand what you are asking of me?"

Orin nodded, remembering that day in the gardens. "If I don't do this, I lose everything."

((((

The last time Orin had been in the Red Keep, he hadn't gotten the chance to see the throne room. It'd been a great mystery for some time and he remembered always wanting to look upon it as a child.

Now as he stood inside the room, eyeing the throne that hundreds of thousands of men died for, all he could think about was one of them. His father had strangled himself to death trying to save his own father, as the Mad King watched on, in this very room.

Now as a man, and knowing the truth, he imagined the story he read didn't properly describe what truly happened. No, I'm sure they left out the part of how the Mad King must have laughed, or how Orin's grandfather's flesh smelled as it burned. They never told you the real story behind it all, just the parts that sounded right.

Two decades later, here he stood, like his father before, facing a cruel king. They really were destined to repeat the past it seemed.

"It always does leave many people speechless." Turning towards the voice, Orin noticed a peculiar looking man make his way around one of the large columns, and slowly towards him. "I suppose it's the history that leaves many in wonder."

Orin didn't move as he watched the man get closer. Aside from the odd robes, baldhead, and strangely soft voice, something about this man seemed off. He'd never seen a person like this before.

"Apologies, my name is Varys," The man introduced, offering his hand.

The name sounded vaguely familiar as Orin greeted the man properly. "You're the master of whisperers?"

"The very same," He smiled with no warmth behind it. It was almost a talent in this city to smile happily yet keep your true emotions in check.

"Orin Sand." A title like master of whisperers didn't inspire trust for Orin.

"Sand is it," Varys smiled, a knowing look on his face. "Ashara Dayne's son. My condolences, I heard about the tragic news in the Riverlands."

Orin tensed. "How do you know that?"

"I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't," Varys summarized.

Fully understanding the power the odd looking man had, Orin took a step closer knowing that if news got out about his mothers death at the hands of Lannister men, he wouldn't be allowed to leave this city.

"You put me in a very difficult spot," Orin whispered, hand slowly going towards the hilt of his sword.

"Knowledge is difficult," Varys explained, not at all worried about Orin's movements. "Sometimes we're trusted knowing hard truths, and what we decide to do with it. For instance, how is it that the son of Brandon Stark, lawful heir to the north, walked into Kings Landing without raising suspicion?"

Varys smiled at him as the color on his face dropped. Whoever this man was, whatever he knew, worried Orin. Only a handful of people in the realm knew the truth, and even fewer were still alive. He refused to believe that Prince Oberyn would entrust this man with that kind of knowledge.

"You know," Orin stated.

"For 2 years, yes," Varys confirmed. "When Lord Eddard lost his head, he entrusted me with a letter. The contents in which you now know."

"How come I'm not dead then?" If this man sat on the king's small council table with this knowledge, then he should have been dead a long time ago.

Varys answered. "It's as I said before, knowledge can be difficult. Even more so on when to use it."

"What do you want?"

There was only reason a person would hold something like that back, and that was leverage. In Orin's experience, nobody did anything out of the kindness of their heart in this city. Everyone wanted something, and everyone had a different motive.

"Peace, prosperity, perhaps a nice meal," Varys said.

"Why haven't you told the king?"

Varys sighed. "Knowledge is power, and when it comes to the truth of who you really are, I did not see it to be wise to tell the king, or anyone."

"Why? You owe me nothing." Orin pressed, tired of the man's incompetence to tell him the truth.

Varys avoided his question, instead turning towards the throne. "I was standing in this very room when I watched your father and grandfather die. Almost two decades later, I watched your uncle get imprisoned here before dying a short while after. It seems Stark's do not have that much luck when it comes to this room."

"You think I'll die here?" Orin asked, trying to mask his anger.

Varys rounded on him, eyes hard. "If you decide to do something stupid. Yes."

Looking around, Orin wondered where all the guards were. Surely someone should have watched over the throne, regardless of its vacancy. Still, he was glad, as he slowly met Varys in the middle of the room, his hand tightly gripped around Dawn.

"You talk about wanting peace and prosperity, yet you stood there and watched my family die. Watched my father strangle himself to death."

Varys's face stiffened for a moment before he relaxed. "What would you have had me do? Charge into the middle of the room, sword in hand, and fight till the death? Your family sealed its fate, there was nothing I could do."

"Nothing you would do," Orin corrected. He eyed the man hard. "Do you consider yourself a good man Lord Varys?"

"Good is a matter of perspective," Varys reasoned. "I'm sure every man tries to convince himself when he's slaughtering innocent people that he's doing it for good. There our always sides, and each has their own view on it."

"You're not a good man," Orin declared, watching Varys's eyes widen for the briefest moment. "Good men do not decide when to do the right thing. They just do it. Not just when it's easy, but when it's hard. They don't stand and witness as a son watches his father burn because they do as there told. You talk about peace, but you counsel the man who sent my uncle to the executioner. You advise the man whose army butchered my cousin and aunt. And you sit here whispering into the ears of the family responsible for the murder of my mother. Tell me Lord Varys, do you still think you can consider yourself a good man?"

Pulling Dawn halfway out of its sheath, the unmistakable pale blade shun in the light coming from the windows above. He'd yet to use, but he was coming close. He was coming very close.

Varys surprisingly did not show an ounce of fear at Orin's sword, instead looking him dead in the eye. "Your father was a good men, as was your uncle. I'd imagine your mother was as well, but I can't no for certain, I did not know her. Good men do not last very long in my experience, but smart men do. I consider myself the latter. So go ahead, strike me down, I wouldn't stand a chance."

Orin tensed as the man stepped forward, almost invitingly, ready to die. All it would take would be one swing and it'd be done. One less shit person in the shit world he lived in. His fingers coiled around the handle, muscles ready, before he sighed in defeat.

"You pride yourself on being a good man," Varys suggested. "Perhaps you could do the smart thing and learn from your families mistakes before following them into an early grave. I'd very much like to see what happens when a good man succeeds."


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"How can you be sure he won't say anything?" Conin demanded.

Orin had told Conin about his conversation with Varys that night, trying to figure out how to proceed. His true name was still very dangerous, considering what had happened to Robb. The Lannisters thought they had the last living Stark under their grasp, but really, another slept in their city.

Still, Orin was surprisingly calm. "I'm a fool for trusting him but I do. Varys will keep it to himself."

"How can you know that?"

Eyeing the small room they'd been given, Orin smiled. "Because we'd be dead if he didn't."

Conin paced back and fort as Orin sat comfortably on the cot. "I still think I should go have a word with him."

"The man was ready to die," Orin remembered. Was Varys brave or did he call his bluff? "Threatening him will accomplish nothing."

Conin rolled his eyes. "Brilliant plan by the way. Did you plan on killing a member of the small council in the middle of the throne room? Or perhaps you were waiting for him to lead you to a back alley and be discreet about it!"

"You aren't very humorous," Orin mumbled.

The knight rolled his eyes. Gods bless Lady Ashara if this is what she had to deal with all the time, Conin thought. He had no family, his only purpose was serving the Dayne's, which he considered his new family, but gods he'd never had to deal with things like this.

"This isn't a game Orin, these are dangerous people."

His traveling companions frustration was clear as day as Orin tried to defuse it best he could. "You don't have to remind me of the dangers Conin, I'm well aware. I understand what happens if we fail."

It wasn't dramatic to think if they got caught, everything was lost, but it did seem that way. In a moment, the Starks would be wiped out, the Dayne's following swiftly, and if word got back that the Prince of Dorne was helping, it'd be the end for everyone back home.

They had everything to lose, and very little chance to gain.

An unexpected sharp knock on the door had Ser Conin reaching for his sword as he approached. The night was upon them, and they had no plans of meeting any visitors. Quite frankly no one really knew they were even in the capital.

"Ser Conin," Oberyn's voice called out from behind the door. "You can drop the sword, we both know you wouldn't last very long."

Sheathing his sword, Conin grumbled an insult before opening the door to the Prince. He was alone as he walked in, dressed in is usual Dornish attire, looking around the room.

"I'm glad they found you a room," Oberyn noted, stepping beside the open window. "I wish the smell of pig shit didn't fill the air every time, but I suppose that's what this cities become."

"It's very late Prince Oberyn," There was still a tension between them, regardless of what had happened. Orin had asked for his help, and the Prince had yet to reply. "It must be important."

"Do you understand what you want to do?" Oberyn turned on him, his joyful demeanor gone. "You plan to steal the girl away from her family."

"I'm her family!"

Shaking his head, Oberyn sighed. "She's married to the Imp Orin, which makes her a Lannister. They will not let her go so easily. And even if you did manage to succeed, where would you go?"

"I didn't ask for your help so you can point out the stupidity of my plan," Orin grumbled, feeling less likely to achieve his goal. "It's risky, and it's a terrible plan, but tell me, how do I help Sansa? What should I do differently? What happens when she has a Lannister baby? Or when they grow tired of her? Or one day good King Joffrey just decides that today he'll rape and beat her? Every moment I delay, she suffers."

The prince was right, he knew. Even if he did manage to help her escape, where would they go? As much as he trusted his people, he could never bring her back to Starfall. Either he'd put them in harms way, or someone would tell the crown and they'd be dead anyways. The North was in shambles, and Winterfell was in ruins, so her home was out of the question.

The whole plan was moot though if Sansa didn't even trust him. He was a stranger coming to take her away to a place he did not know. Orin wasn't stupid enough to believe that she'd just allow herself to go. It was a terrible plan, but it was all he had.

"Your father made a terrible mistake for family in this very city," Oberyn confessed. The mood grew somber at the mention of Brandon Stark. "I do not want to see that happen to you."

Realization hit as Orin sat in defeat. "You're here to stop me."

"I admit, that was my first thought." The prince casually played with the fire of the candle on the desk. "But I am not your father. Had your mother been here, she'd have banished you to Starfall long before you stepped foot in the city."

"My mother wouldn't let me just leave Sansa here," Orin pointed out.

"No, she wouldn't," Oberyn agreed. "She would have argued until her last breath to stop you from doing something drastic that would get you killed, but I refuse to believe she'd let her niece die here."

Orin's eyes lifted in surprise.

"I will help you rescue your cousin." Oberyn eyed him hard. "And we will bring those responsible for our losses to justice."

* * *

"I look like a fool."

The reflection in the mirror was not one Orin recognized. It'd taken some convincing, from both Conin and Prince Oberyn, but here he stood, dressed like a nobleman, ready to attend King Joffrey's wedding. He hadn't worn fancy clothes like this in years, not since he was old enough that his mother grew tired of arguing with him.

He much preferred worn down grubs and his beaten down armor then this. Wearing a small cape around ones shoulder was just ridiculous, and he couldn't see sense why people in the capital did it. Then the fine embedded colored trimming in the shirt and trousers made his clothes seem more like a fine relic then proper attire.

Was he a statue to be looked upon or a guest at a wedding?

The collar choked around his neck as he pressed his fingers to breath. "This is ridiculous."

"This is what men dress like in the capital," Conin offered. Orin could see the knight holding back a laugh. "Besides, you aren't sparring, you're attending a wedding."

"A wedding I have no wish to attend," Orin bit back. He rather watch the Lannisters choke on their pie then see them dance around in happiness.

"I know," Conin agreed, hating it as well. These were the people that were responsible for the death of his Lady; he had no plans on wishing them well. "But we have to keep up an appearance. Prince Oberyn stressed that we couldn't help Lady Sansa until after the wedding and he's right. There's too much going on in the capital right now, too many guards. Let it pass, and then will be ready."

"Still doesn't explain why I have to watch that royal pricks wedding ceremony," Orin sounded like a child, but he hated every moment of this. "Or wear this, I can hardly breath."

"Quit complaining." Conin walked over to help him, gently loosening the collar around his throat. "And we have to go. You're here on behalf of Starfall, and we don't want to raise suspicion if you weren't to attend. Besides, this is a good chance to gain favor with Lady Sansa. Meet her, talk to her, try and get her to trust you."

"Over a single conversation?" Orin rolled his eyes.

"Robb Stark trusted you."

Thinking about the last wedding he'd almost been to, Orin's mood dampened even more. "He also trusted Roose Botlon."

"You aren't Roose Bolton," Conin stressed.

Looking once more at his reflection, Orin hoped this would suffice. "No, I'm not. Unlike him I won't betray Robb. Now come along Ser Conin, let's go before I change my mind and rip this entire collar off."

* * *

Whereas the wedding feast in the twins was loud, poorly managed, and a clear excuse to drink and fight your comrades, the King's wedding was quite the opposite. Orin had never seen such a extravagant party before. Even his small experience in Kings Landing years ago paled in comparison to what he was in now.

It wasn't overly crowded like in the camp outside the twins, but the crowd itself was vastly different. These weren't angry soldiers fighting a war, or drunken sailors, these were Lords and Ladies from across the realm celebrating the kings nuptials in the classiest way possible.

Orin stood amongst the crowd, a little secluded from the main area, watching the people laugh and eat. The vows had already been said between the king and his new queen, and everyone was in a festive mood as they ate and celebrated.

Above the Lords and Ladies, a high table looked upon the entire wedding party and there sat most of the people he wished to see dead. Some had gone to mingle amongst the crowd, but Orin could still see the king sit tiredly in his chair, a look of distain on his face.

A wave of anger coursed through him, as he watched the cruel king from afar. How one person could cause so much grieve to a man was mind-boggling. The boy had everything, and still resulted in being a royal prick.

"I wish you hadn't brought that." Conin stepped beside him eyeing his sword.

Looking down, Orin pulled his hand back after it self-consciously found its way to the hilt. He saw that only the Lannister soldiers and Kings guards held weapons, but he wasn't about to leave the only thing he had left from his mother alone in the room to be stolen.

"I had no choice," Orin said, his eyes never leaving the table.

Next to the king, Queen Margery sat talking to her brother Ser Loras, about something that clearly didn't interest the king. Orin wondered how a man could be so foolish enough to ignore his own wife on the day of their wedding. Margery Tyrell was very beautiful so it wasn't as if the King had married someone he loathed to look out. With that, and her work with the poor around the city, she had redeeming qualities.

It begged the question why a great beauty would even consider marrying someone like Joffrey in the first place.

 _Better her then Sansa._ Orin thought with a grimace.

Turning towards the end of the table, Orin's eyes rested on the only person who really mattered at the party. Unlike all the others around her, Sansa Stark sat motionless without ever once smiling. She looked the part, in a fancy dress, her hair fixed well, in anyone's eyes she would look beautiful.

He imagined that Lady Catelyn looked like Sansa when she was younger, with the same fiery red hair and piercing blue eyes. She was beautiful no doubt, but one look at her gentle face, and Orin knew she was broken.

These people had ripped her from her family, kept her from her home, and humiliated her to the country. Thankfully, that would all end soon. He couldn't bring back her mother father and siblings, but he could get her to safety.

Wherever the fuck that was.

"A moment Ser Conin," Orin said, leaving the knight. He had to make contact somehow, or else Sansa would never agree to leave with him.

Avoiding the curious stares, he approached the table from the far end, avoiding the contact from the new happy couple. The other seats around her were vacant as he approached.

"Halt, you there!" One of the Kings guard shouted, approaching him before Orin could reach Sansa.

Cursing, Orin turned to the man in golden armor as he stopped him in his tracks. Luckily, no one had bothered to notice as the man eyed him.

"You aren't supposed to be here with that," The guard said looking at his sword.

Orin did his best to act surprised. "I'm very sorry, the other guards hadn't mentioned it. I'm not use to such customs from where I'm from."

"I don't give a fuck where you're from," The man answered plainly. Even behind his helm, Orin could see his angry ugly face. "Give it here boy."

The man reached for Dawn, as Orin stepped back, hand resting on it quickly. "Please ser."

Anger flashed as the guard took a menacing step forward, ready to cause a scene. Before a word could leave his bearded cunt mouth, another guard in the same armor, dressed without the helm, blocked his course.

"I think it's best we leave this be Ser Meryn," The man said. Orin couldn't see his face as he eyed the man's back, but saw the disgruntled guard glare.

"Guests aren't allowed to carry swords Ser Jaime," Ser Meryn pointed out.

Orin hardly recognized the man before him as Jaime Lannister. Last time he'd seen him, he had long hair, and a confidence around him that seemed to be missing. Of course discreetly, he looked quickly at his hand and noticed that missing as well.

 _So it's true._ Orin thought.

"I'm Lord Commander," Jamie argued, glaring right back at the man. "Best be off Ser Meryn, I'll make sure this is handled."

Without another word, the man left, following orders like a trained little monkey. Orin could only watch in relief as the man left. Twice now Jaime Lannister had stepped in to defuse a situation, the first very similar to the one just now.

"Every time we meet, it seems I have to stop a man from swinging a sword at you." Now in full view, Orin could see that the years since they last met hadn't been kind. Old scars littered his face, and the golden hand glistened in the sun like a constant reminder. Still, Jaime managed to smile a bit as he looked at Dawn. "Even after all these years, I could never forget the look of that sword."

"It's very beautiful," Orin agreed. He had a hard time talking to the man who was supposed to be fulfilling his vow in getting Sansa out of Kings Landing.

"I am surprised," Jaime sounded a bit perplexed. "Last I remember, only a knight from house Dayne could wield that weapon. You're neither."

"My mother entrusted this sword with me," Orin explained. "I will not break that trust."

Jaime smiled, as if what Orin said reminded him of something fond. "Then I suppose I should call you the Sword of the Morning."

The constant reminder that he carried the sword was enough to sway his doubts. Already he knew he didn't deserve to wield Dawn. He didn't need the added pressure of being referred to as the Sword of the Morning. That was the highest honor he did not deserve.

"I don't think many would agree with you," Orin offered, knowing that to be true.

"The quicker you realize that these peoples opinions don't matter, the better off you are," Jaime pressed, his smile now gone. "Use it well, it's the only one of its kind."

Without another word, Jaime Lannister left, leaving him alone once more. He wondered if that's how the Kingslayer thought when they spoke about him. Commander of the Kingsguard or not, people still spoke about the Mad Kings death. They whispered about it behind closed doors.

For all one knew, that's how he dealt with it. Ignoring them until he could no longer hear the doubt in their words.

Still, Orin didn't care about what these people said. He wasn't here for them.

Thankfully the slight delay hadn't changed his course as Sansa still sat alone staring off miserably. He wondered where her husband, Tyrion Lannister was, but remembered that the imp had a reputation in the realm of being quite the drunk. Wherever the wine was, Orin assumed that's where he'd be.

Trying his best not to frighten her as he approached, Orin cleared his voice, getting her attention. For a moment he stood silent, lost in the sadness in her eyes. He imagined it was the same look he had when he thought about his mother.

"Forgive the intrusion My Lady," Orin began, remembering to speak. "I hope this isn't a bad time."

Sansa eyed him, her lips remaining hard. "Do I know you?"

"No My Lady, my name is Orin Sand."

"Sand?" She repeated, almost confused.

Remembering that he was a stranger, Orin recalled recent events. "I just came here to offer my condolences for your mother and brother on behalf of my family. What happened to them was a terrible crime."

"Your family," Sansa stated, her voice emotionless.

Orin nodded, remembering his own loss. "I'm here on behalf of House Dayne. My mother Ashara Dayne knew your father."

The sound of his mothers name caught Sansa by surprise as her interest peaked a little. "Your Ashara Dayne's son?"

"I am."

"Many people say your mothers a great beauty," Sansa remembered. "Perhaps the greatest beauty men had even seen."

Smiling sadly at the kind words, Orin nodded gently. "She was My Lady. That is something the two of you have in common."

"Thank you." Sansa smiled for the first time that day before it dropped every so slightly. "Was?"

The arrow pierced through her chest haunted Orin as he remembered. "She died My Lady, not too long ago."

He watched her nod in understanding. "I remember hearing tales about her, and how well she knew my father and uncles."

"I heard the same," Orin remembered, before getting the chance to meet Lord Stark for himself. "I was lucky enough to meet your father right here, two years ago. My mother always spoke very highly of him. He was a good man."

The mention of her father must have jogged something in her head as the smile fell from her lips, and once more her eyes remained emotionless. "My father was a traitor."

It was a lie, a poor one, but one she must have been forced to repeat many times in order to survive. Had those words been spoken by anyone else, Orin would have surely lost his control. His newest family was thought of as savages and traitors across the entire realm, and even hearing the disrespect from these mindless sheep angered him.

Doing his best to remain calm, Orin looked Sansa in the eye and whispered carefully. "Your father was a good man. Never doubt that."

He could see the conflict in her eyes as everything in her mind agreed with him but her body had been forced to lie for so long. He wanted to break that resolve but knew it would do no good here. Glances had started to come their way and he had promised to remain under the nose of the Lannisters.

"Farewell My Lady," Orin bowed, and left before someone could say anything.

It wasn't much, but Orin prayed that it would be enough for her to trust him in just the slightest amount. He did not need to know her secrets and dreams, just enough that when the time came, she would not hesitate to run away with him.

Putting your trust in someone was hard, especially when it came to there well being, but putting that same trust in a stranger, you'd have a better time finding a cock on a eunuch.

Orin moved past the main table, taking a turn around the back from the other guests, towards the cliffs that looked over the sea. He saw Conin rooted in the same spot he'd left him in, and Prince Oberyn smiling with Ellaria as they watched over a performer with glee. His only confidantes at a party filled with enemies.

Far enough that no one would notice, Orin turned back to Sansa. To see just a glimpse of her sorrow, and understand her loss, Orin couldn't help but admire her. To survive in this world was difficult, but to survive what she did…it took an incredible person.

"She's very beautiful, isn't she?" Someone asked behind him. Turning, Orin almost missed the man as he looked down to see Tyrion Lannister. "Never seen a dwarf before?"

"I have." Orin had known a few in his lifetime, but none so as infamous as the one before. "Never seen you."

"I'm afraid there isn't much more," Tyrion mumbled, taking a sip of his wine, before his eyes fell on Sansa. "But her? A great beauty to look at."

"Yes she is," Orin agreed, not once taking his eyes off the man.

Tyrion smiled. "Should I be worried? Handsome young Lord like yourself, come to save the pretty girl from the cruel imp?"

Orin could see the humor behind his words but only heard the truth. "I'm a bastard, not a Lord."

"Ah, a man who knows what he is," Tyrion mumbled, offering his hand. "Tyrion Lannister."

Feeling conflicted about shaking the hand of the man whose family murdered his mother; Orin sucked in his pride and shook his hand. "Orin Sand."

"You say that with pride almost," Tyrion noticed. His brow raised as he took in the boy with curiosity. "I've met many bastards in my life, can't say they've all embraced it quite like you."

It wasn't news to him about how bastards were received everywhere but Dorne. In the eyes of most, they were just low born people that didn't deserve a proper name or proper upbringing. Orin had been raised as one, so he was thankful to have had grown up in Dorne.

Although that all seemed rather pointless now seeing as how he wasn't a bastard anymore.

"You're Ashara Dayne's son aren't you?" Tyrion recalled knowing that at one point or another.

"I am."

Tyrion nodded, as if understanding now. "Another great beauty. Which does raise the point, you did not answer my question."

He was clever, but he would not bait him. "I'm not interested in your wife that way," Orin pressed.

Tyrion sighed, taking another sip of his wine. "But you are interested."

Feeling trapped, Orin tried to divert the subject away from him before he said too much. "She's an interesting person. A wolf surrounded by lions, incredible to believe she's still standing."

"Yes well my wife is quite strong," Tyrion remarked. He agreed fully knowing the horrors she suffered.

"She would have made quite the Queen," Orin suggested.

Catching the man's eyes flash ever so slightly, Tyrion turned to watch the king. "That is an honor she could do with out. Believe me."

Without another word, Orin watched the man leave and head towards his seat next to his wife. It was strange to see them next to one another and know they were married. Sansa was just a girl, and Tyrion; well Tyrion didn't exactly seem thrilled about the prospect.

Orin saw no affection and wondered if the man was good to her. Did he even care or was this just another forced marriage that seemed to be the norm in the capital. When did choice become so rare that people resorted to forcing someone into marriage?

Love or not, Orin knew that marriage was a ruse. Sansa did not love him, in fact, Orin would have guessed that she'd rather see them all dead then talk to them for another moment. This was just a way to tie in the last Stark into the Lannister family.

The north was Sansa's, and Sansa belonged to the crown.

"Silence!"

Orin's eyes lifted as the king rose, authority in his voice as he addressed his people. It was still unthinkable that this man ruled over the 7 kingdoms. He was protector of the realm, and a moment ago, Orin had seen him hurl coins at performers as amusement.

It felt like the cruelty the boy showed was almost too much for anyone to bear, but in that moment, even Orin was surprised how wrong he could be.

Waving his hand like the proud monarch he thought he was, Orin watched as 5 dwarfs raced out to the front of the crowd and began to put on a show. Dressed up as each proclaimed King, they charged at each other, pretending to fight a war.

Orin's fist curled, watching as everyone cheered and laughed. Thousands of men slaughtered over this war, his family included, and the world was treating it like a play. The man in charge of the realm was hunched over laughing, nearly spilling his wine.

Everyone around seemed to have a joyous time watching the Dwarf dressed like Robb fall down, dead at the floor. The dwarf who portrayed the king then proceeded to mock the crowd and the Starks with profanity before the actual King cheered.

Orin quickly took a step forward towards Sansa, seeing her distressed face. He could see the anger and hurt under it all as she eyed the Dwarfs. He hadn't felt this angry since he put a knife into the neck of the man who'd killed his mother.

Doing his best to compose himself, Orin watched as the King challenged his uncle Tyrion in front of all his guests. His guard down, Orin wondered what this was about. Tywin Lannister just sat there as his grandson attempted to humiliate his uncle and did nothing.

 _He really is a cunt._ Orin thought, watching the man pour his wine over his uncle.

The crowd watched in silence as Joffrey tortured him. Even in the silence, Orin was too far away to hear anything. All he could do was stand and watch. It was almost as bad as cheering he realized, as everyone around him just watched in acceptance.

They'd come to accept his cruelty and with it, had become cruel themselves. Even Orin felt terrible as he was among them. He didn't owe the man anything, but watching him as he listened to the king mock him, he felt like he should have done something.

Remembering his conversation with Varys, he realized he was in the same predicament. He saw the wrong, but refused to do the right thing and stop it.

"Kneel." Orin heard the king say as Tyrion stared him down.

 _I can't do this._ Orin thought.

His hand fell to his sword but was met with a hard grip cover his arm.

"Leave it be," Conin whispered, pulling him back.

"This is wrong," Orin argued. Lannister or not, he knew this was wrong.

"You do this, we die," Conin breathed. "Sansa dies."

"Look the pie!"

Orin and Conin turned towards the Queen as she announced the next course at the opportune moment. The crowd cheered as the pie was carried in, defusing any tension that had remained. The king still stood staring off against his uncle, but his attention was soon on the pie.

With everyone calm and happy now, Orin still continued to look at Tyrion as he stood, refusing to kneel. It would have meant certain death, but Orin couldn't help but respect the man as he stood in defiance. Clearly he wasn't the only one who hated the king.

"We should go," Conin began, trying to guide Orin away.

Looking back at Sansa, Orin knew there was nothing left to be said. "Fine."

He didn't like the thought of leaving her here, but he had no choice. The wedding would soon be over hopefully, and Sansa would be back safe in her chambers and away from these people.

"Come along quick, before you decide to do something that'll get us both killed," Conin rasped, guiding him towards the exit.

"That was wrong," Orin argued. "How could people accept that?"

"Sometimes horror is all the world knows."

The two had made it past the first few tables before voices started to panic all around them.

"HE'S CHOKING!" A woman shouted.

Orin turned and watched as the Queen looked on in horror as he husband began to choke. His hand went to his throat, trying to breathe, but nothing came out. Guests started to panic as the king stumbled his way towards the middle of the room and collapsed to the floor.

The crowd began to shout in shock as blood and vile began to spew from his mouth. Orin wasn't sure who appeared first, but soon Jaime and Cersei Lannister were crouched by the boy as they tried to help them.

Orin could see Tywin had made his way over in the commotion and soon the crowd began to stand and move frantically. Even in all the chaos, Orin could still see as the king choked in his mother's arms.

Nobody knew what to do and for a moment, Orin was too shocked to move. He could feel Conin trying to pull him away from the madness, but his eyes couldn't look away. He'd never seen a man choke to death, but as the king struggled to breath, he knew that would happen.

A few people started to run towards his direction, blocking him from the view, and without warning his feet started to walk towards the king, hoping that he could get a better view. He had no love for seeing men suffer and die, but gods he wanted to watch this.

Trying his best to avoid the people, Orin thought he could see the kings purple face unmoving. There were still a few more bodies to pass before he could get a proper view, and just when he was about to move past the last person, a sharp knock hit him in the back.

It was quick and painful, but before he could turn to see what had hit him, the light started to darken and then everything went black.


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

* * *

A calming sway rocked Orin as he felt his body start to turn. His eyes shut, his senses felt wrong as he tried his best to move. His arms betrayed him and his legs gave way as he found himself unable to budge. Even his eyes felt heavy as he slowly opened them to see where he was.

Met with a bright ray of sunlight, Orin flinched, closing his eyes once more. It hurt to even see as he tried once more.

This time ready, the light brightened his sight and he was met with an alarming sight. All around him men moved aboard a ship, not once glancing at him, continuing their work. Past them, Orin could see in the vast distance the sea all around.

Nervous, he once again tried to stand from his seated position but was firmly put down from someone next to him. Looking up slowly in a daze, he faintly recognized Ser Conin, and tried to call out.

His voice betrayed him as his eyes grew heavy once more. The last thing he saw was Ser Conin's smiling face before everything went dark once more.

* * *

 _In his dream, Orin could see his mother stand atop her balcony in Starfall looking out into the sun. She wore a simple gown like she did every morning after she woke, and just stared peacefully outside._

 _She was soon joined by a man Orin had never seen before. He approached her silently before he rested comfortably behind her, hands around her waist, and head rested against hers. She relished the touch, sighing in comfort._

 _The man said nothing, but as Orin watched, he took in every detail. He was a large man, with dark hair and dark eyes, and a hard face. Yet as he held his mother, his features softened, as if in peace. A great sword rested comfortably against his lap, carefully not to hit up against Orin's mother._

 _He slowly took a step towards them and the noise alerted them. Turning, the two smiled at him, not mad at the intrusion, but almost welcoming._

" _My boy," Ashara smiled sweetly, holding an arm out to him._

 _Orin felt tears in his eyes as he reached out to her. His fingers slowly touched hers and for a moment, he was happy. His mother was alive and well and he was with her. It's all he wanted._

" _I'm so sorry," Orin mumbled._

 _His mother frowned slightly. "For what?"_

" _Everything."_

 _Ashara smiled at him, her hand slowly tracing upwards to hold his face. "Everyday that passes he looks more and more like you, doesn't he Brandon?"_

 _Orins eyes widened at the name before he looked over at the man and saw the same expression his mother had on her face._

 _Happiness._

 _Joy._

 _Love._

" _Aye he does," Brandon smiled, looking at his son. "He'll be the fiercest Stark yet."_

" _Not as long as I keep him here," Ashara laughed, tears coming to her eyes. "I'll never leave you Orin. Will stay together, I promise."_

 _Orin felt his resolve shatter as he tried to speak. Once more words died in his mouth as his mother and father started to fade. He tried to shout frantically, just to say something, anything, but soon their image disappeared and he was met with darkness._

 _Hr cursed every god there was for taking that from him before the sounds of men shouting about woke him._

"You're up," A voice called to him, finally able to hear again. Orin's eyes lifted, meeting Conin. "Just take it slow."

His movements still slow and clumsy, Orin managed to lift himself into a sitting position atop the ship they seemed to be on. He wasn't sure how long he was out, or where they were, but right now all he wanted was to relive that dream.

Leaning his back against the ships wall, Orin felt a sharp jab of pain on his neck and flinched. "Shit."

"Easy," Conin said. He sat on a crate next to him, watching the men around them work. "You took a nasty hit."

"By who?" Orin gritted in pain.

"Me."

Sighing in frustration, Orin tried to remember the last thing he saw. His memory was still a little hazy, but he remembered Kings Landing, and the wedding, and then all the loud shouts as they looked on in horror at the sight of…

"Joffrey's dead," Orin mumbled, remembering the sounds the boy made as he choked.

"Shh," Conin hushed as he lowered his face to him. "Don't speak so loudly, you don't know whose listening here."

Once more Orin tried to stand but failed. "And where the fuck is here? And why can't I move!"

Conin tapped his pocket. "Essence of nightshade to help you sleep. Apologies, I didn't know how much to put."

"Well I'm not dead," Orin groaned. His head still felt heavy but he started to gain a little sense. "Where are we?"

"Aboard a ship on the narrow sea," Conin answered simply.

"Going to?"

He watched the knight turn away, almost guilty like, before he answered tightly. "Essos."

Orin wasn't sure what caused it, the hard waves, or the shock, but he quickly hunched over and puked painfully. He could here the laughs of the other sailors around him but was too tired to care. Looking back up he saw the sad brown eyes of Conin regard him with pity.

Finding whatever strength he had left, Orin picked himself up from the ground and leaned against the railing in support. He spit away the foul taste of whatever he'd puked before turning on the knight in anger.

"Why aren't we in Kings Landing," He demanded. The memories started to hit him all at once before he remembered his true purpose of needing to be there. "Where is Sansa!"

"Keep your voice low," Conin cautioned. He looked around to see if they'd had an audience but the sailors ignored them. "It isn't safe for us."

"Why?"

Conin did his best to explain in a hushed voice. "The king was murdered. Poisoned at his own wedding. His uncle, Tyrion Lannister, was arrested for the murder and awaits trial."

"That doesn't explain anything Conin. Where is Sansa?" Orin felt his anger start to rise.

"Missing," Conin admitted.

Once more Orin doubled over the railing before puking into the sea. He felt his heart tighten as he emptied his stomach. He'd been at the wedding, he'd spoken to her, how was it possible that Sansa could have gone missing.

"I don't understand," Orin breathed. Taking deep and steady breaths, he tried to see sense. "What happened?"

"Sansa disappeared during the commotion," Conin explained. "The Queen ordered her arrest but by the time the city gates were closed, Sansa had gone. She isn't in the capital, not anymore."

Failure started to creep on him once more as Orin contemplated where she could have been. "We have to head back."

"We can't."

"We have too," Orin shouted. The outburst earned him a few stares but once again he did not care. "I shouldn't be on this ship."

"You have no choice, you're a suspect now."

Orin recoiled slightly. "What do you mean?"

"The Lannisters know about your mothers death. I don't know how, but they do. Witnesses saw you talking to both Sansa and Tyrion during the wedding," Conin reasoned. "It doesn't paint a pretty picture Orin."

"By that logic half the realm would want him dead," Orin argued, hating how this was all playing out. "It's a crime to speak to someone?"

"No," Conin agreed. "But Cersei Lannister will do whatever it takes to have her brother hanged for her sons murder and whoever helped him, regardless if guilty or not. Her son's dead, and she wants justice."

"Her sons a cunt and deserved everything he got," Orin spat. He thought about the way he died, choking on poison, and shook his head. If he ever had gotten the chance to kill him, he would have looked him in the eye before driving Dawn through his heart. "I'm innocent."

"Regardless, Prince Oberyn and I both thought it'd be best if you left."

Orin shouldn't have been surprised to hear about people conspiring around his back. It seemed like his whole life was spent with people whispering about him.

"Is that why you hit me?"

Conin nodded, a little ashamed. "I did not think you would come willingly. I had to get you out of the city quickly once the guards started to patrol the capital. I didn't have very long and I made a choice."

"I'm not a boy anymore Conin, I make my own choices."

"Those choices would have gotten you killed." He knew the knight was right but refused to admit that. "You can't help Sansa if you're dead. You can't get justice for your family if your dead."

"I can't do that here either!" Orin argued. He looked out into the sea, wondering how it'd come to this. "What is there in Essos that can help us Conin! What's going to help me get justice for my family!"

The knight's face-hardened. "An army."


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The travel across the narrow sea hadn't been a pleasant one for Orin. He spent much of his time below deck locked away in his tiny room contemplating all his failures. In just a couple weeks he'd watched his mother die, left Robb and Catelyn Stark to die, and failed to protect Sansa. It seemed whatever choices he made, people managed to get hurt or worse. It was a wonder he was still alive, seeing as how everyone from house Dayne and house Stark was either dead or missing.

He might have been the last of both families, and instead of honoring them; he was sailing away from his home, betraying those who died. He wanted to hate Conin for stealing him away but couldn't find the energy or will to go through with it. The man had done his job in protecting him, like his mother had always wanted; he wouldn't condemn him for saving his life.

The blame was mostly on him. He should have gotten to Sansa sooner, then maybe she'd be with him now and he wouldn't think of having betrayed his mother and Robb.

"There was a simpler time," Orin mumbled, staring up at the ceiling as if it was the most fascinating thing. Conin sat across him listening. "It almost feels like a dream sometimes."

"I know," Conin whispered. "I keep waking up expecting to find you outside training already without my consent and your mother watching nearby."

"She always hated when I'd wake up that early to train," Orin laughed a little, remembering her tired expression each morning. "I'll never understand why she did too."

"I assumed she wanted to watch over you so you wouldn't get hurt," Conin answered, before he too smiled. "But one day I asked, and she smiled at me like it was the most obvious thing, and said that she just wanted to be near you."

It felt good to remember her like this. For so many nights Orin could only see her cold eyes looking back at him, as she lied dead in his arms. He refused to think of her like that, and listening to stories of his childhood helped.

"I've seen many great loves in my life Orin," Conin continued. "But never had I seen one like the one your mother had for you."

Feeling his eyes tighten, Orin refused to break down again. Too often recently he felt weak and exposed, even if it was in front of Conin. Thinking hard, he remembered something he'd yet to ask.

"Do you think he did it?" He noticed Conin's questioning glance before he elaborated. "Tyrion Lannister? You think he killed him?"

Conin thought long and hard about it. He could still remember the way the queen ordered her brothers arrest. The power in her screams as her son died in her arms. He'd never seen a family turn on one another so quickly before.

"Hard to say," Conin answered. "I'm sure Tyrion held no love for the king."

"Then half the country would be suspected of poisoning him." Orin thought about his conversation with the dwarf before the king's untimely death. "You'd have to be an idiot to poison your own nephew at his wedding feast in which you attend. Say what you will about the dwarf, but he isn't that stupid."

"People do stupid things when they're angry," Conin mused, looking at him hard.

Orin smiled lightly. "Fair enough. Still, it begs the question as to who killed him if not Tyrion?"

Conin's eyes rose. "You don't mean to think Sansa had anything to do with it."

It wasn't out of the question to think she would, Orin thought. Sansa had to most reason to want the king dead. Still, it was hard to believe the girl had it in her to plan that so cleanly.

"I don't know her well enough to be sure," Orin admitted. "Still, if she escaped the capital then she had help."

"Then that's good news for us."

Confused, Orin frowned. "How so?"

"Someone went to great lengths to help her escape," Conin explained. "That means she's important to them. Important enough to keep her alive. You wouldn't risk that just to kill her, they'd have left her in Kings Landing if they wanted that."

"Good," Orin nodded. He still wanted to go back and find her but knew it was foolish. If Conin was correct, then he was a suspect until Tyrion would be found guilty, and even after that the queen still might want his head. Thinking about where they were heading, Orin looked grimly at the knight. "I hope your plan works, because we're fucked if it doesn't."

It wasn't the smartest plan, but it seemed like the only one they had left. Most of it rested on blind fate and good will and Orin hadn't seen too much of that in a long time. Once more things didn't look so bright.

"How long did you spend there?" Orin found himself asking. "In Volantis?"

Conin thought for a moment. "2 years… no wait 3."

Orin thought he knew everything there was to Conin, but even now that man still surprised him. He wasn't particularly old, but it made sense that he did have a chance to explore the world. He'd been in his families' service for over 20 years, so Orin deduced that he must have been around his age when he lived there.

"Why'd you leave?"

Conin's eyes blinked quickly, before he recovered. "I had a wife. An honest life and a comfortable home. But one day she woke with a terrible fever and there wasn't anything I could do. She died a few days later. After that, I knew I needed to get away, and that's when I sailed back home to Westeros."

Momentarily stunned at the news, Orin felt terrible for asking. He prided himself on knowing the people close to him, almost like an extended family. Yet listening to Conin's tragic past, he clearly didn't know everything there was. Anyone else would have been all right, but he felt ashamed about not knowing that about Conin.

He was the closest thing he had to family after his mother and for most of his life he'd been like a father to him.

"I'm sorry Conin," Orin apologized. "I didn't know."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Conin smiled, grabbing his shoulder. "I ended up in Starfall with you and your mother. That's about as good as it could possibly be after what happened to me."

Orin was glad the knight felt that way. "What was her name?"

"Sarisa," He answered with a sad smile. "We weren't together long, but it meant everything to me."

The feeling was foreign to Orin as he remembered something. "Is that why you haven't married again after so long?"

"Perhaps," Conin nodded. "It's not easy to forget your first love. Still, I had no time for that, serving your family was all I needed at the time."

"And now?"

Stopping any pity aimed towards him, Conin sighed. "How's about we make a wager?"

Orin's face scrunched in confusion. "What?"

"If we make it out of this with are heads still firmly intact, and somehow manage to succeed in everything it is we want, I'll find a wife. Deal?"

"That could be years," Orin pointed out.

"Yes well I plan to live a very long and fulfilling life."

Rolling his eyes, Orin rested his head gently against the wall of the ship and relaxed into the sway of the sea. The boats he was accustomed to paled in comparison to the one they sat in now. Back home, the sailing they did was very local, never leaving for more then a few days, but now it'd been almost a fortnight, and they'd yet to reach their destination.

Stops along the way in Tyrosh and Lys were welcome, but they didn't stay very long. Just enough time for them to disembark and others to stock up on supplies, and once more they were back on the sea. As much as Orin enjoyed his time back home on the sea, he wasn't a Greyjoy. He preferred land, and the sooner they made it to Volantis, the better.

 _Volantis._ Orin thought.

The only thing he knew about Volantis was that Sansa would not be there. Other then that, the place had only been a name to him all his life. He hadn't known anyone from there, never remembered any stories of the city, and quite honestly never wanted to go.

Yet Conin stressed that it was the only way to get what they needed. Even if all Orin needed was to sail back to Westeros and find the last living Stark.

"This man? You trust him to deliver?" Orin spoke up, replaying the strategy once more in his head.

Orin heard Conin mumble a quick yes.

"That isn't very insuring."

Rising from his cot, Conin sighed. "What do you want me to say Orin? I haven't seen Eros for almost 15 years. And the last time I saw him I'm pretty sure I threatened to kill him if we did ever meet again. So no, it's not very insuring, buts its all we got."

"We're better off looking for Sansa then," Orin argued.

"Westeros is quite large," Conin stated, as if Orin was too stupid to know. "You have a better chance finding someone you'd never expect to see then finding her. At least with Eros's help, we can take back the north."

"The north," Orin repeated.

He'd gone to Kings Landing in hopes of saving Sansa, and now his plan was to take back the home she'd lost. It almost seemed ridiculous to even try, but Conin had convinced him that letting Robb's rebellion die with him was the wrong thing to do. The north was in shambles, the Lannisters had won, and Roose Bolton now resided in the place his father had called home. Whether he was a Stark in just name, Orin knew it wasn't right to let that be.

Yet, even if he managed to get Winterfell back, it would all be pointless if the north's freedom didn't help him find Sansa. Wherever she was, alone or with help, maybe, just maybe, seeing Winterfell once again under the Stark sigil would be enough to bring her home.

"I feel like I'm choosing Winterfell over her," Orin admitted.

"You are," Conin agreed. Orin shot him a look as the knight tried to explain. "You're not a child anymore Orin. There are no easy decisions. You can take back the north, or hope in finding Sansa in a very large country. I'm afraid each it next to impossible, but I truly believe if you take the north back, it'll be the only place for Sansa to truly be safe."

"If she's even alive," Orin pointed out.

"She survived in King's Landing for two years as the Lannisters hostage," Conin countered. Lying down once more, he laughed lightly. "She might be the toughest person I've ever known."


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Tossing and turning, Orin tried his best to find sleep that night, but it never came. He wanted to blame nerves, seeing as how they were a day's trip from Volantis and would soon find out if Conin's old acquaintance would be of any help, but he knew that wasn't it.

Each night since he'd woken on the ship that first time, he feared of having another dream. Seeing his mother so happy had been almost traumatizing. He'd never see her smile again, and thinking that was horrible. Yet to see her with a man he imagined as his father, there were no words to describe it.

In another life, the three of them were happy, together, and safe. There were no wars to fight, people to avenge, justice to find, it was just them living. It was a fools dream but one Orin wanted to hold onto.

Noticing Conin had yet to fall asleep, Orin turned towards him. There were so many things he wanted to ask, so many things left unanswered, but only one that mattered in that moment.

"My father," Orin whispered. Only the flames could show that neither had fallen asleep. "Did you know him?"

Conin shifted, eyeing him with a sorrowful look. "Not very well."

"For a long time I forgot I even had a father," Orin admitted. He felt like the worst person saying it, but it was the truth. "I just imagined he was some solider who died who'd never be remembered. A man without a name that history would forget. I almost did."

"Your father was an honorable man, the whole country knew that."

That didn't make Orin feel any better. He imagined the Mad King laughing as his father struggled to get his sword. It must have made him feel very powerful, watching his father suffer like a scared boy. History might remember his father as honorable, but Orin would only remember the terrible way he died.

"First time I met him was at the Tourney of Harrenhal." Conin spoke up.

Orin knew that tourney all to well.

"He was a hard man your father," Conin continued. "Almost started a war that very tournament."

"How?" Orin asked, incredibly curious.

Conin smiled at his eagerness. "Your father did not take it all that well when Prince Rhaegar crowned your aunt Lyanna queen of love and beauty. I still remember the way he had to be restrained from making a terrible mistake. He was a rash man, but he cared deeply for his family. Much like you."

Orin smiled at the backhanded compliment, before his face grew serious. "I can't imagine he'd be very proud of the way I've protected my family."

His father sacrificed his life to protect his family, and here he was running from his. The disappointment of failing both his parents was something he never wanted to experience, yet he knew he had.

"Family is a great strength Orin, but with it, comes a terrible weakness." Conin tried his best to comfort the boy. "Your father risked everything the day he walked into that throne room. He did it for his family. Much like you now, risking everything to save yours. I can't speak for Brandon Starks ghost, but what you've done so far, and what you plan to do, I can without a doubt tell you that I'm very proud."

Conin's eyes met his as the words sunk in.

"That might not mean as much…" Conin began.

"It means everything," Orin answered, a smile on his face. "All my life I wanted the truth about who he was, what kind of a man he was. I'm proud to be a Stark Conin, just like my father, but you're as much as a father to me then anyone."

Even in the darkest moments, it felt good to see the happiness in Conin's eyes. The two together had lost much, but they were still here. The man was family, and as much as he thought he was alone, he still had someone to lean on.

 _BAM!_

Within an instant, Orin was thrown off the cot with a jolt before his body met the hard floor. Struggling to move, Conin soon joined him on the floor as another violent shake had them turning again on the floor.

Orin's back smashed against the cot as he tried to stand once more. "What the seven hells was that?"

Before Conin could answer, a loud horn sounded above them as the ship once again shook. Orin caught the wall as he did his best to stand. Grabbing his bag quickly, Orin reached for the door.

"Come on!" He shouted, as loud steps started to quicken above them.

Feeling Conin behind him, Orin hesitantly made his way through the lower halls of the ship and towards the stairs. Shouts above had the two quicken the pace as soon other sailors joined them towards the stairs.

"Storm?" Orin shouted, asking one of the men.

The man shook his head grimly, as he drew his sword. "Pirates!"

Eyes wide, Orin reached for Dawn, and followed the man up the stairs. He could hear Conin's voice behind him but couldn't make out the words. Hoping the knight was still behind him, Orin reached the deck and watched the madness overtake the ship.

Dozens of men had begun fighting as the mass burned around them. Only the flames drew any light in the dark night as Orin heard one of the pirates shout towards him. Stumbling back, Orin tripped over his own feet as he fell towards the ground. Above him, the man raised his sword and attacked.

The sword came down hard as Orin readied himself for the hit, but it never came. Conin quickly held his sword out, blocking the attack, leaving the pirate confused. Taking advantage of the moment, Orin gripped Dawn, thrusting upwards into the man's belly. He cried out before falling to the floor dead.

"We need to go!" Conin held his hand out as he pulled Orin up. "Are you alright?"

Shaking his head a bit nervously, Orin watched the chaos around him. He hadn't known the sailors well, but he knew enough to know they were decent men. Watching all around as they got cut down, unarmed, it shocked him. These men weren't soldiers, and they were being slaughtered like livestock.

Feeling Conin's grasp on his arm, Orin shook the thoughts away and followed the man towards the edge of the ship. A few sailboats had already collapsed in the wreckage while the others burned.

"We need to jump," Conin pressed, grabbing Orin roughly. "Go!"

"But the men," Orin argued.

"There's no time," Conin shouted.

Turning his head back towards them, Orin watched another pirate charge towards them. Conin saw the attack, quickly deflecting it away while striking hard at the man's shoulder. He spun around as blood covered his torso, before Conin stabbed him in the back.

Another pirate, who had just finished killing a sailor, ran towards Conin's empty backside with his sword ready. The two swords clashed as Orin stepped in front of the blow, saving his friend. The pirate stepped backwards, anger in his eyes, as he charged once more.

Allowing him to attack, Orin sidestepped the swing as the pirate's momentum took him too far. Waiting at the ready, Conin's sword pierced the man as he ran into the steel. The blade went straight through before Conin kicked his sword loose from the dead body.

Orin almost wanted to admire the move as he turned towards Conin. The faint smile on his face died as he watched movement from behind the knight. Before he could shout, the sharp blade of an axe lodged itself into Conin's shoulder as he smashed into the wall beside them with incredible force.

Blood began to drench the floors as Orin stood in fear. His feet couldn't move as he watched Conin on the floor. The knight's eyes were wide in fear as Orin wanted to call out. Yet his body betrayed him as a laugh was heard loudly beside them.

Lifting his eyes, Orin met the man who'd swung the blade. Anger boiled inside him as the man laughed at his misfortune. His hair was a mess, his beard bloodied, and his axe was held high and ready, yet the only thing Orin could really notice the man's deranged eyes. He'd never seen a look like that before, the look of pure joy of causing someone such misery.

"You're next," The man laughed, readying his axe.

A war cry released from Orin as he charged the man. Rolling onto the floor, the axe swung over him, narrowly missing his feet, as he swung Dawn. He felt the blade connect lightly with the calf of the pirate's right leg as he stood.

"You fuckin cunt!" The pirate shouted, throwing his good leg out, kicking Orin onto the floor.

The man stood above him as he dropped the axe. Rolling away, Orin crashed into Conin, who continued to bleed. His eyes widened as they met the knights, who only managed to blink in pain.

"Run," Conin whispered.

Hearing another attack, Orin spun closer to the man, as the axe dropped once more. The tip of the blade hit Orin's shoulder, but he ignored the pain. His anger fueled him as he kicked off the man's legs, giving him enough space to rise.

Once more he held Dawn ready, as the man charged. Thrusting his sword, Orin blocked the attack and spun the sword out of its lock. The axe, to heavy to pick up with much speed, left the man defenseless as Orin swung viciously towards the pirates face.

Luck saved the pirates life as Orin's swing was mildly dodged as the boat rocked, sending the man a step back. Still, the blade connected enough to slash the man across the face, giving him a red gash that started to bleed profusely.

The man's shout was almost enough to bring a smile to Orin's face, but had also alerted the rest of the men around him. They'd finished off the rest of the sailors, before turning to him. At least a dozen men stood on deck, ready to attack, and he knew, in this setting, he'd be dead before he killed three of them.

Quickly finding Conin, his eyes hardened as he watched the knight lay still.

"Kill him!" A man shouted.

Hating what he was about to do, Orin gave one last look to the man he'd slashed, and memorized his face. Almost glad to see him crouched in pain, Orin gripped the railing of the ship and jumped before the men could attack.

The cold water hit him quickly as he began to stay afloat. The waves were rough as he noticed other sailors had joined him in the water. They shouted, but Orin could not hear. His ears were ringing as a wave smashed into him, knocking him deep into the sea.

His head rang as he tried to find his bearings. The water was cold, almost too cold, as he tried to swim back for air. The wave must have knocked him 15 feet deep as he pressed upwards, trying not to drown.

Almost at the surface, Orin's mouth opened as water began to pore in. Thankfully he broke the surface, gasping for air. His lungs took a much-needed breath as he eyed his surroundings. He half expected a bolt to the head as he looked back towards the ship but noticed it was already a few dozen yards away.

The ship was almost covered in flames as Orin watched the pirates run back towards their own ship that'd been lodged next to it. He wanted to swim back, maybe get aboard the ship and kill them all, but his body began to tire. Waves continued to crash into him as the pain from his shoulder started to worsen.

Every part of his body tried to fight, to stay awake, but it betrayed him. His legs grew heavy, his arms tired, and soon he felt his head lighten. All around him the world started to blur. With moments left to spare, Orin's head broke the surface once more, his eyes resting one last time on the pirates ship.

It looked just like any ship.

Except for the mass.

His vision dark, Orin felt his body submerge once more before he smiled in the darkness.

 _A kraken._ He thought, before he passed out.


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

A distant screech sounded above as Orin's eyes slowly opened. The sun harshly had him shutting them as he groaned in pain. The sound was heard again as Orin tried to move. His sudden moves shook his body as his lungs gasped for air.

Trying to breath, Orin turned violently, as he choked out water. The bitter taste felt strange on his lips as he laid head down on the ground. Once more the screech above him sounded off as he tried to remember where he was.

Lifting his head gingerly, he was met with the sight of the ocean. Tiny waves met his feat as he lowered his gaze to the wet sand under him. Looking around, he was surrounded by a vast beach that ran along the coast of the ocean until his eyesight couldn't place it anymore.

It was almost easy to think he was dreaming before he recalled what had happened. He'd been below deck on his way to Volantis before pirates….

 _No, not pirates._ Orin thought, remembering the sail of the boat. _Greyjoys._

They'd destroyed the ship, setting it ablaze, as they cut down every man they could find. Orin could still remember the hard fall to the ground as the ships collided. The screams of the men were heard next as him and Conin rushed up to help.

Conin.

His eyes remained on the sea as he imagined what had become of his closest friends body. Had it caught fire like the rest of the ship? Or perhaps birds had descended on him after wandering the sea for hours? It didn't really matter, all he knew was that his last lifeline to this world had gone with the ship and he truly was alone.

Conin had been his rock, and he'd been taken from him cruelly. Everyone he knew and loved, murdered. Kings, bandits, pirates, it didn't matter, anyone who could kill, had killed, and he was left with nothing.

Whether or not he'd soon join them was yet to be seen, as he looked around his surroundings. The ship had been a day away from arriving at the port of Volantis, but the land around him confused him. He'd never been this far east, so even though he managed to somehow swim ashore, he still didn't know how close he was.

Gently getting up from the wet ground, Orin flinched in pain as he straightened. His shoulder hurt as he examined the gash that the axe-wielding pirate had given him. In all his life he'd never seen such glee when ending a man's life. The smile on his face as he struck Conin would haunt Orin, but he refused to let it break him.

The bastard who'd killed his mother had paid the price, and before Orin bit the dirt, he promised himself that he'd find Conin justice as well. Somewhere, somehow, he'd find that pirate, and make sure he paid. When the time came, when Dawn was sticking through the pirate's heart, he'd smile just like he did when he took his friends life.

Still, the man had come close to killing him. The wound in his shoulder was painful, enough to slow his movements as he began walking the beach. There wasn't a thing in sight as he walked the coast, fighting the urge to just give up and die.

Halfway across the world, alone from his family, defeated and lost, close to death from a damn cut, Orin really didn't see a happy ending here. The only bit of good news was Dawn hadn't been lost in the sea as he eyed the sword. His bag gone, any gold with it, food nowhere in site, and all he had was the damn sword.

 _Ser Arthur would be proud._ Orin thought bitterly.

The coastline was a nice enough walk for a man half dying, as Orin trudged through the hot climate. The feeling of the waves crash against his ankles was the only thing that stopped him from collapsing. Each brush reminded him where he was as his eyes refused to shut.

Thankfully the waves had done their job, as off in the distance, his eyes picked up on two men dragging each other out the water and onto the shore. They were a few dozen yards away as they collapsed onto the ground, almost unmoving. Orin wasn't sure if they were friend or foe, but he needed help. Drawing his sword, he approached them hesitantly.

They'd yet to move, only their heavy breaths proving they were still alive. Their clothing had Orin relaxing as he recognized the garb the sailors had worn on the ship he traveled on. Trying to place their faces, Orin hardly recognized them, cursing himself for locking himself away in that cabin the entire time.

Closest to him, one of the sailors started to cough loudly, turning onto his stomach as water poured out. He didn't look like most of the other sailors, besides his clothing, having no hair, a darker complexion that he assumed he'd find in Dorne, and a small build. Most of the other sailors were hardened, tougher looking, whereas this man seemed quite the opposite.

Feeling another's presence, the man looked up, his eyes wide with fear, as he watched Orin approach with his sword in hand.

Shouting in a language he'd never heard, Orin held his hands high trying to calm the man down.

"I won't hurt you," Orin tried. Still, the man began to crawl away, his body still far to weak to stand. He could still hear the man yell in terror. "Please, I don't understand."

The other sailor coughed, alerting Orin. "He doesn't either."

Turning his attention to the other man, Orin was grateful he spoke the common tongue. "We're you on the ship? Heading to Volantis?"

"Aye," The man grunted, sitting up. A nasty looking cut ran down from his ear to jaw, but he hardly seemed concerned. "You're that knight."

Shaking his head, Orin corrected the man. "That was my friend, I'm no knight."

"He make it?" The man asked. Seeing the look pass on Orin's face, he nodded in understanding. "I'm sorry."

Orin gave the man a quick nod, not wanting to discuss it further. "You know where we are?"

Shaking his head, the man eyed the sea. "Best bet? About two days trip to Volantis."

The emptiness around them didn't paint a flattering picture. Two days from the nearest city, with no food, and in this condition, Orin didn't think he'd last that long out here.

"You're bleeding," The man noticed.

Orin reached for his shoulder. "It's just a cut."

"A cut that'll kill you out here," The man grimaced. Turning to the other man, he spoke sternly towards him before turning back to him. "Vilar can help you."

Orin eyed the man suspiciously, still unsure of the man who he couldn't understand. "How?"

Smiling a half toothless smile, the sailor pointed behind him. "Help an old man up. We gotta find something first."

* * *

A few hours later Orin found himself sitting by a fire as Vilar worked on his shoulder. They spent the latter part of the day searching for herbs to help treat whatever wounds they sustained during the attack. Orin had no clue what he was looking for, grabbing anything he could find. Turned out half the things he'd brought back could have killed them if ingested properly.

Fortunately they had found something suitable to clean out the wound. It still hurt, but Rendal, the other sailor, had explained that the pain would last for a while. He wasn't a maester, but he translated whatever Vilar would say as he worked on his shoulder.

The man hadn't said much since they'd sat down a half hour ago as he checked his cut. All Orin knew was that the language they spoke was Valyrian, and that whatever he was doing to his shoulder had probably stopped him from dying.

Other then that the two men were mysteries. He must of seemed like one too as the three stared into the flames. Only thing they had in common was that they were stranded, alone, and most likely to die in this foreign wasteland.

"You sure he knows what he's doing?" Orin repeated for the third time. He could feel the man pick at his cut roughly. "He isn't very gentle."

"If you'd rather die from it," Rendal mumbled, poking at the fire.

Shrugging slightly, Orin relented, allowing the man to continue. Lost in a land he'd never been in, he supposed it could have been worse then having a man treat his wounds. He wanted to stay positive, but the longer he sat thinking; the more he remembered what happened.

There was still a part of him that kept thinking Conin would walk over the small hill behind them carrying logs of wood for fire. He'd sit down; stay quiet for a while, before explaining the plan to Orin. He always knew what to say and what to do, and for the longest time, Orin had relied on that.

Now he was gone, like everyone else, and he couldn't rely on them anymore. As independent as he imagined he was, Orin needed guidance, now more then ever.

"You a soldier?" Rendal quietly asked after a long silence.

It wasn't difficult to understand what Rendal was really asking. Orin expected many sailors met many different kinds of men over their travels at one time or another. It wasn't ridiculous to think they'd come across a few men deserting the family they fought for. Men didn't feel the need to fight for kings anymore. As much as Orin wanted to believe in Robb as a good king, his men turned on him in the end.

"No," Orin answered simply.

Rendal nodded, probably not believing him anyways. "What about your knight friend? Don't know many knights traveling to Volantis."

"We were traveling together," Orin pressed.

Orin could see the eyes widen slightly on the man. "Are you a Lord?"

Sighing in defeat, Orin looked away from the man, focusing on the flames. "No."

Apparently satisfied with the answer, Rendal dropped it. "Suppose it doesn't matter now. We're all the same right now. Just three shits capsized by pirates and left to die in some desert."

Hearing the mention of the pirates, Orin's hand curled in anger. "Those were no pirates. Those were Greyjoy sails."

Rendal looked as if he already knew. "You'll find no Westerosi families fighting out here boy. Greyjoy sail or not, they were pirates."

Orin saw no sense in arguing with the man. Instead, he sat still as Vilar finished off whatever progress he'd made on helping his wound. He guessed if he survived the night he'd know the man did a proper job of helping him. Only time would tell.

Taking one last careful look at him, Vilar nodded in approval before taking his seat by the fire. Together, a sailor, a Stark, and a man who spoke only Valyrian, it was quite the crew.

Orin almost laughed at his current predicament. A year ago he was in Starfall seemingly happy, and now, now everything had gone to shit. Lies, hurt, and failure had led him here, sitting around a fire in Essos with two strangers, with little chance of redemption.

His life was in shambles, but he assumed that the men around him were feeling the same thing too. Looking up from the fire, Orin eyed the one man he knew could converse with him.

"What's your story," Orin asked, knowing it must have been a long one. Grey had already started to come to the man as he looked back at Orin tiredly.

"Like most," Rendal offered. "We all can't be born into riches. Some of us actually have to work for the right to live."

The line cut through Orin as contemplated what Rendal had said. He'd grown up in a castle, defended by guards, under a noble family. There was no fight to live; he had everything he could possibly want. How horrible was he for complaining about the state of his life when he was given a chance to live a life others would never think possible.

His losses broke him, but Orin realized in that moment that the men he sat with, the men that weren't part of a great house or noble family, they dealt with hardships all their life. There were no guarantees for them, just like life and death, and Orin had taken advantage of it.

"You have a family?" Orin found himself curious now.

Rendal smiled, shaking his head. "Been dead a long time. Never had wife or kids, couldn't find the time or silver."

"I'm sorry." Orin pitied the man.

"No point in breaking balls," Rendal joked. His face grew serious after a moment. "I expect I'll die soon enough. Never remembered, and nothing to my name. Almost makes it easier when you have nothing to leave behind."

Orin wondered what he'd do with the little time he had left. Starfall was basically his, as was Dawn. If he took into consideration his true heritage, he guessed that Winterfell might be his as well. So much to fight for, so much to lose, and he had no one to give it away to.

If he died here, Dawn would die with him. Some lost scavenger would eventually find his corpse and find a new weapon. The castles left behind from his mother and father would be lost in chaos, as new families would tear down the history of them just to be Lords. Maybe Rendal was right; perhaps it was easier dying with no heartache on what's to happen to your possessions after your dead.

"And Vilar?" Orin asked about the other man.

Rendal eyed the foreign man who'd fallen asleep by the fire. "He's been a slave most of his life. Somehow managed to escape and flee to Westeros."

"How long have you known him?" Orin wondered, eyeing the former slave.

"Not very long," Rendal admitted. "He's not a sailor. Booked passage just like you. Helped around on deck. Now he's heading home."

Orin wondered why a former slave would possibly want to go home after his escape from the cruel practice. He was lucky enough to grow up in a land that abolished slavery long ago, unfortunately for people like Vilar, it hadn't happened everywhere.

"Why go back?"

Rendal smiled. "His family is back home, and apparently Meereen is a free city now. He means to reunite with them."

Turning to the sleeping man who helped him, Orin was glad that at least one of them had something to look forward too. Times were dire for all three of them, but if they managed to survive, Orin hoped it would be Vilar. The man still had a chance with his family, which was more then Orin would ever have.


	21. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

It seemed whatever shit thing could happen, had happened, as Orin and his two new traveling partners walked the hot desert of the land they washed up on. The heat was bad, but the hunger was worse as they hadn't eaten in two days.

Rendal had mistaken how long it'd take to get to Volantis as they soon found out after walking this long. Vilar remained quiet most of the time, but Rendal had been going off loudly and often at their misfortune. Orin recalled him once saying he was better off drowning in the ocean then suffering like this.

It was a fair argument to be sure, but they were still living, and Orin took comfort in that. His wound had healed considerably since he'd woken up on that beach. It was still sore, but his arm no longer felt that piercing pain then it had before. If the managed to make it out of here, Orin suspected he'd owe Vilar his life.

Out of the three of them, the quiet Meereenese man had done the least complaining. In fact he hardly spoke, instead walking in silence. It was an amazing thing to see, the sheer determination of the man to want to see his family. He'd endured worse in his life, but refused to give in.

"Don't know where the fucker gets the patience," Rendal breathed, turning back to watch Vilar. "I'd kill a man to drink right now, and here he is walking like he just ate a bloody meal."

"Some men are stronger then most," Orin replied. He didn't need to turn around to see the glare from the vulgar sailor.

"Says the man with the only damn weapon," Rendal snapped back.

"Not my fault you weren't smart enough to bring your own." Insulting strangers wasn't a common practice Orin kept, but he'd been with the men for a long two days, and had known enough that he felt comfortable telling them how it was.

"Aye you're a proper lad huh." Orin could practically hear the eyes roll on Rendal. "Well out here you're just like the rest of us. Just dumb cunts who refuse to die."

"You sound like you're getting there," Orin noticed.

Turning, he gave a long look at Rendal. His baldhead had started to crack under the harsh sun, his eyes barely open, and his face covered in sweat. The gash that he'd gotten during the fight on the ship had almost turned purple and every time he took a breath, he inhaled sharply in pain. Besides that, his movements were slow, and he was certain the man's ankle had twisted.

They were all worse for ware, but Rendal seemed to have taken the worse of the hits. Orin and Vilar still had their age, so their bodies hadn't given up on them yet unlike Rendal.

"As long as he doesn't die, I won't die," Rendal gestured to Vilar who had now passed them both.

"We won't last much longer out there," Orin stressed, eyeing their surroundings.

A mixture between sand and green was all around them as the coast remained on their right. They gave up signaling to a boat during their first day after seeing no one for hours. Instead they headed east, hoping that eventually they'd hit Volantis.

Orin had thought they'd find some sort of land owned by someone, but it never came. Of course back home you could travel for a long time without seeing a mill, or castle, or establishment, but not after walking for two days. Somewhere out here there had to be something, or they'd die.

"You're right there lad," Rendal agreed, calling back Vilar who'd now gotten a few dozen yards away. "Best we try looking for food one last time."

The stubbornness of the man astounded Orin. After a day without food, Rendal had pointed out that even without taverns or castles anywhere in sight, they still could hunt for their food. Without arrows or crossbows, they weren't going to catch anything on land. Instead, they spent a good while in the ocean, trying to catch fish.

From the pain in their stomachs, and anger coursing through them, they'd obviously failed in spectacular fashion. Now, a day later, Rendal wanted to try again.

"We're better off walking," Orin argued, hating to spend another minute in the water as the fish swam by. "You said that Volantis was a two days trip, it's been two days, surely will be there soon."

"Yes well I could very well be wrong," Rendal snapped. He ignored Orin's protests as he headed towards the water. "I plan on making it to Volantis, I can't do that if I starve to death."

Calling Vilar over, Orin watched as Rendal and the man headed past him towards the sea. Of course Vilar would side with the man who he could speak to. Orin hadn't said a word to the man since thanking him after their first night. Now once again he'd waste his time hunting for fish he'd never catch.

"Fuck me."

* * *

Two hours later, with still nothing to show for their efforts, Orin had long given up trying to catch a fish with the make shift net he'd made from his shirt. Instead, Dawn glistened in the sunlight, as he jammed in down hoping to kill one on impact.

"You'd have better luck having the fish jump into your lap," Rendal laughed, a few yards away.

"Fuck off," Orin mumbled, swinging down again. Once more the tiny fish around jetted around his ankles, almost taunting him. "I don't see you catching any."

"True, but at least I don't look like a fool."

"A fool to who?" Orin snapped, lifting his hands around. "No one's here. There aren't any girls to fawn over you old goat."

"I thought we agreed not to trade insults," Rendal smirked, before his eyes hardened. "Or talk about girls."

Orin sighed in frustration.

It had been an unspoken rule that Rendal apparently had with the other sailors during his long voyages. Most of these men were away from their families for quite a long time, so the comfort of a woman's arms was hardly accessible when they spent most of their time on the sea. Of course there was the occasional brothel visit during a stop, but apparently Rendal had standards.

"First thing I'm gonna do when we reach Volantis," Rendal mused, a smile on his face. "Get me a woman."

Eyeing the man's older state, Orin couldn't help but laugh. "You're getting old to be chasing girls."

"As long as my cock works, that's not a problem. Besides, can't stay young forever, take advantage while it lasts lad."

Swinging his sword once more, Orin thought about his past. Here he was, a man now, an inheritance to give away, and he'd never been with anyone. All the chances he'd ever had, and he turned down each time. Perhaps he was a fool for thinking he'd feel something for someone besides lust. After all, most people didn't marry for love. Whatever notion he had in his life that made him think he'd be the exception, was now one of failure.

Maybe Arianne had been right the whole time; maybe people could give into their lust without worrying about what's to come. Sighing, Orin assumed it didn't really matter. After all he didn't expect to make it back to Westeros, let alone find a woman, before he starved to death in this heat.

Swinging his sword once more, Orin's eyes widened as he connected with a large fish that happened to swim into his thrust.

"Finally," He whispered, dropping his hands quickly into the water to retrieve it.

"Bout bloody time," Rendal laughed. "Come on, I'll start a fire, you did the hard part."

An hour later the three found themselves sitting around a fire as the sun started to go down and only the flames were a source for light. They sat on the beach, under a hill that indented into the ground, giving them a slight roof over their head.

The fish hadn't been too large, but just enough that all of them ate a good amount. Even after one bite they started to feel the effects of the much-needed nourishment. Now, the fish picked clean to the bone, the three sat comfortably hoping the next day would be their last until Volantis.

It almost seemed like a lifetime ago that Orin had been in Kings Landing attending Joffrey's wedding. Now he sat with men he hardly knew, yet felt more comfortable with them then anyone else he'd met in a long time. Two and a half days fighting to live really put a mark on knowing whom you fought with.

"You never told me why you were heading to Volantis?" Rendal asked. He gestured over to Vilar who was still trying to find any fish left over in his hands. "I know why he's here. But what about you?"

"It's a long story," Orin sighed.

Rendal looked around. "Seems we got the time."

"One I don't feel like discussing," Orin pressed. It was hard enough thinking about all those he lost, he didn't needed the added reminder of telling more people. "It's just easier."

"Life's never easy," Rendal agreed, dropping the subject. "You'll have a better chance catching a thousand fish then finding solace in your life."

Orin smiled a bit. "Is that another way of saying I should give up?"

"No." Rendal shook his head. Grabbing the left over fish he'd eaten, he tossed it over at Orin's feet. "Had you given up, we wouldn't have eaten tonight. If you want to do whatever it is you want, you have to fight like hell. It won't come easy, but eventually you might find a way. We all have. It's why we're still here."

Looking hard at the two, Orin knew that was true. One was born into nothing, working all his life to survive, and the other was raised into slavery, and had to escape his torturous life to survive. Each their own path, and each fought to survive. It wasn't easy, and it never would be, but maybe there was still enough push in him that Orin could still achieve what he wanted.

There was still a mountain of hurdles to pass but he couldn't quit now. That wasn't him, and it certainty wasn't the men around him.

"You're very wise," Orin offered. He could almost see the man smile in the darkness. "What about you? What's you're story? I don't know where you're from?"

"You wouldn't know it," Rendal waved his hand. "Ever here of Bear Island?"

The name didn't mean anything to Orin as he tried his best to remember everything he'd been taught. "Afraid not."

"It's expected," Rendal understood. "After what Mormont did to our house, Bear Island hasn't been what it used to be."

"Mormont?" Orin repeated.

"House Mormont," Rendal confirmed. "Northern house, small numbers, proud people. Wouldn't want to get in a scarp with one of 'em."

The words felt heavy in Orin's throat. "You're a northerner?"

"Born and raised," Rendal smiled faintly. "Haven't been back in many years though, almost 20 I think, I can't remember. All the same, seas been my home ever since."

It was interesting to see that one of the men he was stranded with could have been a citizen living under the rule of the house he was meant to be lord of. Orin had no ambition to be Warden of the North, or Lord of Winterfell, but in another life, he was, and Rendal, and his home Bear Island, was under that lordship.

"So you knew the Starks?" Orin asked hesitantly. It was a sensitive subject, but one he couldn't help ask about.

Rendal, doing his best to access the danger of his answer, nodded anyways. "Not personally. Like I said before, I'm no lord. Never even met the Mormonts and they were in charge of Bear Island. But I knew of the Starks, everyone in the north did. Good people, honorable family, horrible how it ended for them."

Orin felt a small sense of pride hearing about his family. Even as most of the world regarded them as traitors, regular people, the ones you'd never think to ask an opinion for, still understood what the Stark name meant.

"Most would say they got what they deserved," Orin mumbled, thinking about all those who wronged him.

"Every monster thinks there the hero in their own story."

It was easy to see it that way; no one wanted to admit to themselves that they were truly horrible. For so long they chose to do unspeakable things, and the moment they start questioning that, they collapse. It was easier putting the blame on everyone else rather then facing the fact that you're the problem. Orin never had a problem questioning right from wrong most of his life, but the older he got, the horrors he saw, the more that resolve started to falter.

"I need to piss," Orin mumbled.

A slight nod was all he got as he got up and left the men amongst themselves. The more he talked, the more he started to question himself and his cause. The last thing Orin needed right now was doubts. His sole purpose should be on making it to Volantis and figuring out things from there.

Walking a few yards away, Orin relished the cool breeze as he stood in darkness. As difficult the last three days had been, it felt a little good to not have the weight of so much on his shoulders. Even thinking that he felt terrible, but it was true. No one to save, no one to fight, nobody to avenge, just him with two strangers alone in the wilderness. It was peaceful.

 _Crack!_

Turning his head at the snap, Orin felt a small cold blade rest against his throat as he stopped moving.

"Move and you die."


	22. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Orin felt his throat tighten from thirst but refused to ask for help. Forced to walk, hands tied together, he eyed the men around him. It didn't take very long to know these men were slavers. The moment he was thrown to the ground with other slaves he knew he was in trouble.

He first thought the men were sent to kill him from Westeros. Perhaps Cersei had somehow managed to track his whereabouts and put an end to the Stark dynasty. That idea died the very moment he was put in chains and forced to walk endure in the burning sun.

The pain in his feet was almost too much but Orin ignored it. Truth be told he should have past out from the pain, but he kept moving like it didn't bother him. He didn't once think about his discomfort, his sole purpose spent on thinking about making it back home. He'd suffered too much to die like this.

Around him, both Rendal and Vilar walked alongside, also chained, in great discomfort. After he'd been threatened at knifepoint, he'd been dragged back to his make shift camp where he saw his two acquaintances being thrown into chains. Rendal hadn't put up much of a fight, but Vilar refused. Orin had never seen the man convey such emotion as he struggled with the slavers. A lifetime of chains, then to be set free only to meet the same cruel fate was horrible.

Now as the three walked alongside the other poor souls, Orin could see the defeat in all their eyes. Yet none had the same devastated look as Vilar.

"Keep walking!" A slaver shouted, sending a quick whip as Orin's back.

Flinching in agony, Orin rounded on the man, remembering his face. When he got free, he'd be the first one he killed.

"Listen boy," Another man rode up next to him. After days of walking, Orin had figured this man had been the leader of them all. He memorized his rat like face for every single detail. The dark hair, brown eyes, yellow teeth, even the way his nose bent from being broken at a time. "A whip is the least of your problems my friend."

Orin turned his head, noticing that his sword belt hung onto the horse that the man rode. The fool was so set on making them slaves that he didn't realize he had to most prominent sword in all of Westeros.

Continuing on forward, the group of ten or so had already passed Mantarys, and still had ways to go. Volantis was a distant dream now as almost 4 days ago they'd passed it without stopping. Orin could see the discomfort on Rendal's eyes as they made their way past the place he was so keen on getting too.

Instead they were forced to walk, barely alive, to somewhere they did not know. The slavers around them weren't much help. Every time either spoke, they were met with a whip, so Orin and the rest of them had stayed quiet most of the time.

Still, he wouldn't stay quiet for much longer. Each day that passed the more he thought of on how to escape. Most options ended with death, while others ended in torture. At this rate though, if he never acted, he'd end up a slave all his life.

There were only 4 slavers including the rat-faced leader, and they didn't seem like the greatest warriors he'd ever seen. If anything they resembled the Frey's, but Orin wasn't too sure. Looks could be quite deceiving.

"We will stop here for the night," The man in charge sounded.

Roughly pushed to the ground, each of them was soon tied to each other with rope, with no chance of escape. The slavers took their sweet time relaxing while the ate. Hardly any food was passed there way, just enough to survive until the next day.

"Shit way to go," Rendal whispered next to him.

The old sailors condition had worsened as Orin tried to remain positive. "It isn't over."

"For you," Rendal mused. "Maybe not, but I won't last much longer."

Watching as Rendal coughed, Orin spun towards the slavers who had been laughing at the man's discomfort. "He needs more water!"

"Shut your mouth," The leader snapped.

"He's going to die!"

Watching the leader rise, Orin propped himself upwards, head looking up defiantly. The man approached him slowly, no weapon held, as he looked down at him with a smile.

"What's your name?" He asked.

Refusing to speak, Orin glared.

"When I ask a question, you answer." Quickly nodding his head towards one of his men, the painful strike of the whip had Orin crouched on the floor. "Now lets try one more time. What is your name?"

"Orin," He breathed hard, gasping for air.

"No." Nodding his head again, another whip struck his back.

Orin felt his shirt rip from the impact as his back split open from the snap of the whip. He refused to cry out in pain, not wanting to give the man the satisfaction. Instead, he found enough strength to rise once more, and stare him down.

"My name is Zazhor mo Radhar," The man introduced with a smile on his face. Grabbing Orin's face roughly, his smile faded. "And you no longer have a name. You're worthless. You're nobody. And you belong to me."

"Piss off," Orin whispered.

Another whip struck his back as he remained upwards. He felt the blood pour down his back but refused to give in. This man would have to whip him to death before he submitted to his cruelty.

"You'll die for pride," Zazhor commented.

Shaking his head, Orin almost smiled.

"It's very rude to ignore people," Zazhor said. "I've killed men for less. So please, when I speak…"

"I'll kill you," Orin whispered.

He saw the man's eyes flash, but his smile returned. "You're captured, unarmored, surrounded. How do you plan to do that?"

"I'll find a way," Orin promised, never surer then anything else in his life. "I swear to every fuckin god there is I will kill you."

This time, Orin felt the man's hard slap strike him across the face as he fell backwards into the dirt. Nearly hissing in pain, Orin quickly spun so that his back wasn't pressed against the ground.

"Bring me a knife."

His eyes widened at the words as he felt his body roughly being grabbed and dragged away from the others. The slavers tossed him onto the ground, half dead, as Zazhor kicked him over so that he could look up at the man's face. Holding a sharp blade, Orin watched as the man yanked his left arm out from his chains, holding it down with his foot on the wrist. His other men held his other limbs tightly as Orin struggled to break free.

"Now I'm going to ask you a question," Zazhor began, waving the blade around. "And every time you answer poorly, I'll cut off a finger."

Dropping the knife against his smallest finger, Orin's body tensed. Zazhor crouched to his level on the floor, his face resting a few inches from his. He could see the seriousness in the man's eyes but refused to give in.

"What is your name?" Zazhor repeated.

Feeling the sharp edge against his finger, Orin called his bluff. "Orin."

Zazhor smiled at him, before he began to saw away at his finger. Orin shifted violently trying to squirm free. All he could to was shout in agony as the man shaved his finger off. Instead of dropping it down and being down with it, Zazhor cut through the skin and bone like he was cutting his meat.

Orin felt his head dizzy as the pain became too much. It felt like an hour before he made it past the bone, but soon it was all over. Zazhor proud of his work waved the blade in front of him like a trophy.

"Would you like to play again?" Zazhor asked. Shaking his head, he smiled again. "Of course you would. This is fun. Now, once more, what is your name?"

Seething in pain, the gasps Orin took felt long and heavy as he tried to regain some sense. His finger was gone and all that remained was a pile of blood where his hand was. Everything was red all around as he tried to remain calm.

Knowing the man serious, Orin still refused to back down. Apparently he was willing to die for pride, and if that was the case, Zazhor mo Radhar would have to carve off every fucking piece there was before he gave in.

"Orin."

This time, the man's eyes hardened as his smile dropped. Unlike the first finger, he dropped the knife cleanly onto the next in one swift move, severing another finger. Orin flinched in pain, but somehow managed to refrain from screaming. His mouth closed hard, so hard he thought he'd bite his own tongue off. It was painful, too painful, as he tried to stay awake.

"Apparently you don't need your hand," Zazhor commented, guiding the knife around his body before the knife rested gently against his crouch. "Maybe there are other things you'd prefer to keep."

Orin's eyes widened in fear as the knife stopped.

"No, to soon," Zazhor laughed. He brought the knife back up to rest against Orin's cheek. "We still have so much on top before we get to your cock."

Pressing the edge of the knife into the corner of his eye, Zazhor began to cut alongside his face towards his jaw line. Orin shouted in pain, the agony and anger slowly making him confused. He could hear the laughs of the men as his eyes started to spin.

Pressing his face closer, Orin could smell Zazhor's foul breath as he smirked in his face. The man thought he was funny, torturing an innocent man. Refusing to die like this, Orin surprised Zazhor as he lifted his head forward, smashing the man's forehead.

Zazhor fell forward in pain, his grip on Orin's arm now free. Quickly seizing the moment, Orin grabbed the dropped knife from Zazhor as he tried to stand, and plunged it into the man's calf.

The other slaves screamed as they tried to intervene, but Orin hurriedly pulled the knife and swung it into the closest slaver. The blade met the man's neck as he toppled over dead onto Orin, blood gushing all over him.

Orin felt a sharp pain as one of the slavers holding his legs had stuck a knife into his shin, but he used his adrenaline to carry him. Kicking off, his foot met the man's balls as he fell over.

Zazhor was still reeling on the floor in pain as Orin pushed off the dead man on top of him. Only two remained as he eyed the one who charged at him with a sword. His movements slow, the blade cut into his upper arm, and sent him back.

Trying to get a grip on the knife in his now bloodied hand, Orin watched the man strike again but rolled out of danger. Momentum carried the man as he tripped over his dead friend, and sent him to the floor. Taking the rare advantage, Orin quickly stabbed the man in the heart as he turned towards the last two.

He should have been dead, every part of him yearned for it, but as he stood staring down the last two slavers withering in pain covered in blood, he fought against doing so. The cheers of the other slavers could be heard but Orin ignored them.

Walking past them painfully, he stood above Zazhor who'd yet to rise from his injury. Pure hatred filled him inside as he kicked the man onto his back, staring down at him. Orin ignored the pain on his leg as he crouched down.

"Please," Zazhor mumbled.

Jamming the knife onto his cock, Orin almost smiled at the man's cries. "You should have killed me."

Zazhor's eyes widened in fear, and before he could manage another word, Orin pulled the knife out and stuck it into the side of his head. The man died on impact as his fearful eyes stared up at him.

The last slavers groans reminded Orin of his survival as he slowly walked up to him. He remembered his face as the one who kept whipping him and other slavers. It was pathetic that he lay there groaning with his hands over his balls, acting like he was dying. Orin would probably die very soon, and he'd been mutilated, while this man rolled on the ground like a scared little boy.

He wanted to kill him, but seeing the other hopeful looks of the slavers, Orin thought against it. With whatever strength he had left, he made his way towards them and started to cut loose their binds.

"You're mad," Rendal whispered. He could feel the man's eyes access him. "Are you all right?"

"Never better," Orin lied, cutting loose Vilar. He could see the relief in his smile as he turned back to Rendal. "Get the keys, and unchain these men."

Orin watched the man search the bodies, as he collapsed into the dirt. The other slaves free from their bonds had begun taking turns kicking the last slaver. He could hear each kick as it landed over the man's screams, but refused to stop them. Gods know how long those slaves had wanted revenge, and Orin wouldn't take that from him.

Looking down at his bloodied body, Orin wondered how long he'd last. His left hand was missing two fingers, his back was covered in cuts, his leg had been stabbed, and he could feel the blood drip from his facial wound. He was a mess, and he felt like it.

He hardly noticed Vilar over him, seeing if there was anything he could do for the pain. It was a nice gesture, but a pointless one, as he could feel his resolve quickly begin to fade. His body started to weaken, and soon he collapsed into Vilar's arms, knowing death was certain.

It was over, he failed Conin, he failed the Starks, and worst of all, his mother.


	23. Chapter 22

**Guest: His failures are a consequence of having no real life experience. The best example I could possibly give was the talk Dickon Jaime and Bronn had during season 7 when Dickon learned the truth of warfare. As for his doubts, they're a common reaction to all the horrors he's seen. Watching his mother and father like figure die in front of him doesn't exactly inspire confidence. So yes, while he has failed at every turn, and doubts himself because of that, he'll soon begin to change. I'd tell you how but spoilers, lol.**

 **Dipsyy: Wouldn't that be cool? Some red witch voodoo and bam, has a couple claws to mess people up!**

 **riley1506106: I wonder if the magic extends to regrowing of body parts hahahah. Thankfully Orin still has most of his hand.**

 **ImperialPrussia: Firstly, the slavers did not allow Orin to keep Dawn, they stole it when they took Orin captive. Just like the dothraki in 'Eastwatch' at the beginning, they took the sword because good weapons are hard to come by. So sorry my fault, should have cleared that up within the story. Secondly, I went back to the chapter to make sure I specified, which thankfully I did lol, but the fingers he lost were on his left hand, which happens to be his non dominant hand. Had Jaime lost his left hand instead of his right, I'm sure he still would have been quite the fighter. So yes, the injury will hinder him, but not the extent that he won't be able to wield Dawn. Lastly, your not the first to show disdain over Orin's attitude and all around success rate, so for that I apologize. I can see where the complaints are coming from and hope the coming chapters show his transition. I don't want to say he'll be smiling and succeeding at every turn, but his luck is about to change in a very big way. So hopefully you stick with the story and thank you for the honest review. I hope some of the problems you have with it will be resolved soon.**

 **To all the other readers, hopefully you aren't hating Orin, I know he's in a difficult spot right now, and is extremely doubtful of his ability to succeed, but that's just a reaction of losing everyone he loves. Of course nobody wants to read a protagonist that fails at every corner, but thankfully within the coming chapters I've already written, you begin to see a change.  
**

 **And for everyone, this chapter and onward is where the story starts to veer off from the show. In the coming chapters there's a few similar scenes, so you'll recognize a few, but things will play out differently as a whole.**

 **So enjoy reading!**

Chapter 22

It was a peaceful day in the streets of the market as Barristan Selmy walked alongside a few unsullied patrolling. It'd been a few days since the Sons of the Harpy had killed the unsullied solider, so the city still hadn't felt safe. Yet nothing had come since, and as Barristan eyed his surroundings, he wondered how long it would last.

Resistance against a new monarch was always met, and sooner or later it always ended. He only hoped that no more innocents would be the casualties of the short rebellion against his queen. As much as they refused to believe in her way, Barristan hoped that eventually they'd see sense.

A lifetime experience would suggest that it would never happen, but Daenerys had him believing in things he'd never thought possible. She was unlike anyone he'd ever known, and if someone could find the balance between peace and justice, he knew it would be her.

Still, she was her father's child, and for a while, the Mad King had been fair and just. As long as she kept on the path she was on, Barristan had no doubt she'd never become the man her father was. The world didn't need someone like her father again. They had enough terrible people in Westeros already.

Rounding the corner, Barristan came upon a peculiar site. A few men were shouting in need of help as two horses carried what looked to be two dead men. Quickly surging forward, Barristan met the men with the unsullied to figure out what the problem was.

"What's wrong?" Barristan asked, hoping they spoke the common tongue.

One of the men, a little worse for ware managed to answer tiredly. "These men need help. Please help them."

Eyeing the men on the horses, Barristan nearly flinched at their state. Blood covered most of their body, as did the horses they were on, as they both held on to life. He'd seen many men die in his time, and he knew these would soon join them

Looking at the man sadly, Barristan shook his head. "There isn't anything I could do. I'm sorry."

"Please," The man begged, tears in his eyes. He pointed towards the further one hurriedly. "This man save my life. Please help him."

Barristan pitted the man and truly felt from him but he knew there was nothing he could do. Still, he approached the other man who lay dying on the horse slowly. He was far closer to death then the other one and as much as this stranger wanted to save him, Barristan knew it couldn't be done.

He was just as close to telling him before his eyes stopped on the horse. Two decades later, half a world away, it would still not be enough to let Barristan forget that sword. Quickly rounding his eyes on the man, he looked past the blood and dirt and really got a look at him.

His eyes hardened for a moment before his heart clenched in his chest. "Ashara."

)))))

Orin saw darkness as he tried to move. His body remained still on something soft as he wondered if this was death. A darkness that remained unmoving for him to wallow in till the end of time.

Once more he tried to move and this time felt a surge of pain run up his spine and all around his body. He gasped in pain and knew that he wasn't dead yet. He tried to remember where he was but flashes of pain and darkness was all he got. The last thing he truly remembered was the look of the slavers he killed before succumbing to certain death.

Yet again he tried to move and this time, his eyes followed to, and he opened to an unfamiliar site. Four walls and a roof surrounded him as he stared silently at the beige stonewalls. Last he remembered he was trapped in a desert with no chance of ever seeing civilization again.

Looking down he noticed he was lying down comfortably on a bed. He didn't recognize the pants he wore or the shoe's he'd been given, and the rest of his body had been bandaged up covering most of his chest. On the edge of the bed, his hand rested completely covered, but Orin could feel it.

He was missing two fingers and the pain of it was still there.

The image of the man chopping off each one gave him a sense of urgency as he rose from his bed swiftly. He didn't know if he was still in danger and had to find Rendal and Vilar soon.

Before he could reach the door however, someone beat him to it as an old man quickly entered, staring him down. The first thing Orin noticed was the sword strapped to his hip and knew he couldn't do anything. Regardless of his current state, he had no weapon, and Dawn wasn't anywhere around him.

"You're alive," The man said.

Orin almost thought he heard relief in the man's voice. "Should I be?"

His voice was barely audible but the man managed to understand as he shook his head. "I expected you'd die before you woke. You were in terrible shape."

"I expect I'll die soon enough," Orin groaned in pain. He took a heavy seat back on the bed as he looked at the old man. "Are you here to kill me?"

The man shook his head. "No."

There were worse things then death Orin thought. "Torture?"

"I found you on the street half dead," The man explained. He stepped closer, no hostility in his movements. "Took you back here, made sure you were properly cared for. I don't mean to harm you."

Taken back at his word, Orin frowned at the man. "Who are you?"

"Ser Barristan Selmy," He introduced, as Orin reeled back in shock. "I knew your mother."

"My mother," Orin whispered.

"Your Ashara Dayne's son, are you not?" Barristan asked, a smile on his face.

Nodding his head slowly, Orin couldn't find words as he stared up at one of the fiercest fighters the world had ever known. Every man woman and child knew of Ser Barristan Selmy's legendry status, and Orin more so. His uncle had been Kingsguard with the man, and together they formed one of the greatest Kingsguard in history.

"I saw you once, at the tournament for the hand," Barristan continued. "I didn't get the chance to meet you, but even after the years, and the condition I found you, I remembered."

"It seems I owe you my life," Orin managed to say through his pain.

"Your mother wouldn't be very happy if she learned I allowed her son to die on my watch," Barristan smiled.

His mother would never know. "She's dead."

Looking up, Orin saw sadness in the knight's eyes as he tried to remain composed. "How?"

"Killed by Lannister soldiers," Orin explained. He didn't know how close the knight and his mother had been, but the man had saved his life, so he owed him the truth.

"I'm very sorry," Barristan whispered.

The knight's reaction confused Orin but relented in asking why. There was much of his mother's past that remained untold to Orin, so he shouldn't have been surprised to see such reactions by people he never expected. From what Orin understood, Barristan and his uncle had been friends, so it wasn't a completely out of the question for that friendship to also extend to his mother.

"Where am I?" Orin finally asked.

"Meereen."

Startled by the name, Orin remembered Vilar. "The men I was with. Are they all right? Vilar? Rendal?"

Nodding his head gently, Barristan chose his words carefully. "Most of your friends are dong all right. The man named Vilar is back with his family."

Orin felt a surge of happiness before he noticed something. "Rendal?"

Barristan regarded him solemnly. "I'm sorry."

It felt stupid to feel sadness for a man he hardly knew, but he did. They survived together for quite a bit of time, and even if they were strangers to each other, they looked out for one another.

"Did he suffer?" Orin asked quietly.

"No," Barristan stressed. "He passed in his sleep."

"That's good to hear."

Realizing he was safe for the first time in a long time, Orin didn't know what to do. For so long his sole purpose was just to make it to Volantis, but now he was alive and in a city and he didn't know where to begin.

Without Conin, his plan to hire enough Sell Swords was basically dead, which left him in Essos with no real hope. Had he trusted his gut he never would have left Westeros and maybe his friend would still be alive, but there was no point in questioning his mistakes. He still had purpose to achieve.

"Am I free to go?" Orin asked.

The knight's smile dropped as he looked at him with uncertainty. "You aren't strong enough to leave."

"When I am then," Orin pressed. "I need to go back to Westeros."

Nodding his head, Barristan smiled. "You should get some rest."

Without another word, the man left, shutting the door behind him and leaving Orin to ponder his thoughts. He was confused at the man's hesitancy for him to leave but didn't bother to dwell on it. Barristan Selmy was right, he wasn't strong enough and as he laid his head back down, he could feel sleep overcome him.

)))

A few hours later, or perhaps a day, Orin did not know, a loud knock woke him from his slumber as he shifted in his bed. The pain was still there but enough had gone down that he felt comfortable enough to stand.

The door opened, and Orin was met with a guard he'd never seen before. He held a spear in one hand as he stared beneath the strangest helm Orin had ever seen. The rest of his armor was quite unique and had Orin wondering if this was what Meereenese soldiers looked like.

"Come," The man stated.

Stepping aside, Orin saw two more of the soldiers outside his room waiting, spears in hand, for him to move. It was futile to disobey, and Orin had believed Barristan enough to know that he wasn't in any danger.

As he stepped forward, the first guard stopped him suddenly, holding out a pair of chains.

"As a prisoner then? Alright then." Sighing with a small smile, he relented.

The chains felt rough on his wrists as his left hand jolted in pain. Clearly his missing fingers were still sensitive from being removed.

The men guided him through a hallway out his room. They walked in silence the entire time as he followed between them up some stairs and past larger rooms. Finally, they turned into an open area that held a much larger room then he expected. It was very open, hardly anything filed inside, but smack in the middle of it was a large stairwell, which led to a chair at the top.

Orin had never seen such a structure before as he gazed at its rarity. It was incredible to see such an elaborate room. The Iron Throne looked almost normal compared to the room in he stood in. The strangely shaped walls with unique patterns, or the two pools of water bordering the stairs, there were so many things he'd never think to see.

He would have continued to marvel but was roughly pushed until he stood directly at the bottom of the stairs. The guards took their spots behind him as he stared on ahead. He'd been so consumed with the room that he hardly noticed the people inside it staring at him.

The first person he recognized had been Ser Barristan Selmy who stood atop the stairs next to the only chair and regarded him with a soft smile. His comforting smile wasn't enough to calm Orin's nerves as he eyed the others.

On the other side of Barristan, a younger looking man stood silently looking at him with hard eyes. Long dark hair, a well-kept beard, fine features, Orin imagined many ladies back home would think of this man as handsome. The only thing Orin really noticed on the man was his choice of weapon. It wasn't very common in his home country, but Orin recognized an Arakh when he saw one.

Left atop the stairs were two women, one who was seated and another who stood nearby. It was rude of him not to even notice the girl who stood, but the second his eyes fell on the woman sitting down she had his attention fully.

He felt foolish for the first think he thought of was how beautiful she was. He'd never been one to be tempted by a pretty face, but staring up, he wondered how long he could continue to believe that. Still, as beautiful as she was, the only thing Orin could focus on was the color of her hair. He'd never seen such a blonde quite like that. In the right light, it almost looked white.

Her eyes regarded him as he looked back, and he wondered who she was. Perhaps she was the Lady of the city and ruled over its people. Orin knew very little when it came to customs in Essos, so there were many things to wonder.

"You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons," The other woman who stood announced.

Whatever curiosities Orin had stopped the moment her name was uttered. His body tensed as to whom he was standing in front of, as his eyes hardened. He imagined he looked quite ridiculous, gawking one moment and angry the next. He felt stupid for trusting Barristan Selmy into believing he was safe.

No one spoke as they all regarded each other. He'd been summoned, chained, and left confused, and all they could do was stare at him expectantly. There games were tiring as Orin stared down the woman who sat.

"Where's my sword?"

The words rang through the rooms large walls, almost echoing back to him. He saw the nervous look from Barristan but continued to stare down the queen. To his surprise, she smiled slightly.

"You expect me to let you carry your weapon freely?" She asked, a slight hint of sarcasm on her lips.

"I don't care what you expect," Orin answer tightly. "I just want my sword back."

He sounded like a child, but he felt naked under her gaze. She was surrounded by men who Orin assumed were her guards and he stood defenseless. He understood what happened to Stark men who stood before a Targaryen

Orin caught anger flash over her eyes before Barristan interjected. "Your Grace, perhaps we can offer our sympathy by giving the boy his sword. It is the last thing he has from his house, a memento of sorts from his uncle."

"Yes I'm well aware," The Queen answered, her eyes still staring him down. "You're the sword of the morning? Your quite young to be a knight."

"I'm no knight," Orin replied. "I just want my sword back and to be on my way."

Dany wanted to sigh in frustration at this mans stubbornness. He was in the presence of the queen and all he kept asking was for his damn sword.

"Your grace." Orin looked at the bearded man in confusion. "You will address her as your grace or my Queen."

Orin stared hard. "She's not my queen."

Barristan quickly looked over at Dany, hoping she'd remain calm. Thankfully, she just continued to stare at the man before she cleared her throat.

"You do see these men around you," Dany pointed out, gesturing to the guards around the room. "They will kill at my command."

Watching the men in spears with interest, Orin knew she was telling the truth. Still, he stood his ground, refusing to obey.

"My mother died so I could be here," Orin began, staring at the queen. "I will not insult her memory by kneeling to the family responsible for my fathers death. No, if I die, I die standing."

It was a bold statement but one Orin believed in very much. He imagined his father hadn't backed down when he demanded Rhaegar suffer for his crimes, and he wouldn't either. The girl was part of the family that murdered his father, he would not submit, regardless of what happened.

"Your father," Daenerys repeated slowly.

Nodding his head, Orin knew what he was about to say would change things. "My name is Orin Stark, son of Brandon Stark."

The queens powerful look faltered for a moment as she eyed him suspiciously. Even Barristan looked quite taken with the news regarding him in shock. Whether or not they believed him was of little consequence. He would no longer hide from his father's name.

"Stark," The queen said quietly. She hesitantly looked up at Barristan before turning back to him. "Why should I believe you?"

"Don't care what you believe," Orin answered.

Barristan spoke up before the queen lost her patience. "I don't understand, Brandon Stark had no children."

"He had me," Orin explained, looking up at the knight. He felt disappointed learning that the honorable Barristan Selmy took up arms with a Targaryen. "My mother kept me in Starfall after he was murdered."

"Murdered," Dany repeated tightly. She stood up from her throne and slowly descended. She carried herself gracefully as she came to rest a few steps away from him. "Your family is the reason I was fled into exile. There the reason my brothers dead. They nearly destroyed the Targaryen dynasty."

Orin laughed, the anger inside burning up at him. "Your fathers the reason for all that. He's the reason why I never met my father. Do not blame my family for your father's cruelty. You don't get to stand there and judge me because of my name, not when yours caused so much grief to everyone I know."

The mood was tense as Daenerys stared at him with no emotion. Orin had seen many looks in his life, but never the one she regarded him with now. He couldn't' place whether or not she was angry or insulted, but he assumed he was as good as dead.

Taking a closer step, Orin could almost feel her breath on his cheek as her eyes darkened. "I could have you killed for addressing me like that."

"I wouldn't expect anything less from a Targaryen," Orin whispered.

"Take him away," Daenerys ordered. "And throw him in a cell."


	24. Chapter 23

**Azazel: Very Rambo like huh, lol, thanks for the review.**

 **Silver Crow: Thanks for the review, and I'm glad to hear to liked Dany and Orin's meeting, hopefully everyone did too. It was difficult writing because I didn't want Orin to come across as arrogant or have Dany come across as passive. Hopefully I made it seem right from both sides. And for your question, Orin doesn't see himself as a Stark, only in name. You'll actually read a couple references on what he sees himself as and why in this chapter and if I remember correctly the next as well.**

 **ImperialPrussia: No prop, and yes some things will start to get better for Orin in the coming chapters. I actually have him succeeding in something hahaha.**

 **Hail King Creton: I didn't want Orin to hold back during the meeting because unlike Jon who needed Daenerys help in season 7, Orin only sees an enemy. Of course I didn't want to go too far in having him killed, seeing as how Dany doesn't take shit, so hopefully I achieved a good balance.**

 **Thank you to all the other readers, hoped you enjoyed the meeting between Dany and Orin. Now onto the chapter where they become best buds!**

* * *

Chapter 23

"You told me you knew this man!"

Dany felt frustrated as she regarded Barristan with distain. She trusted the man with her life, and knew of his heroism, but his kindness for the boy had made her look like a fool in front of her own people. Dany was many things, but she did not take insults kindly.

"I knew his mother," Barristan offered gently.

The two had the room alone as they contemplated what to do with the supposed Stark. Today was not the day Dany expected to find a Stark in her dungeon but apparently the gods thought differently.

"His mother," She repeated. There was still so much of Barristan's past that she didn't know. She wondered what had happened for the man to defend the boy. "You failed to mention his true name."

"I did not know your grace."

"Yes well one of the enemies of my family sits in a cell," Dany argued, pacing back and forth. "His insults cannot go unpunished. He needs to pay."

"Your grace," Barristan began slowly. "See it from his point of view."

"His point of view?"

Unsure how to begin, Barristan tried his best not to anger his queen. "You know who your father was. You understand the crimes he committed."

"Yes," Dany agreed shortly. She hated talking about her father. His name alone caused so much fear in her own. "What of it?"

"If the boys telling the truth, then your father had his strangled to death while he watched his own father burn."

Barristan had explained to her a few instances of her father's cruelty, but unlike this. Never had he gone into specifics, fearing the knowledge of her father's cruelty would only have her question her own resolve. Yet to here the words, it dampened her mood considerably.

"Brandon Stark was heir to the north, and your father laughed as he strangled himself trying to save his own father. I've seen many crimes your grace, but none so as horrible as that. The day your father murdered them, was the day the war began."

Dany's eyes softened. She couldn't imagine doing something so cruel like what her father had been capable of. All her life believing one thing, thinking her enemies planted lies to ruin her family's reputation, and all the while they were true.

She felt pity for the boy as she looked back at the knight. He must have thought of her as the same, standing there, ready to suffer the same fate as his father.

 _He's brave._ Dany thought, giving him that

Still his stubbornness did unnerve her as she thought of what to do. The simple thing would be having him killed and being done with it. If one Stark could overthrow her family, what's to say another wouldn't given the chance. It was clear he had no love for her, yet she couldn't do it. They both judged each other the second they heard their names, and Dany refused to kill a man because of that.

* * *

Whatever adrenaline had kept Orin standing in that throne room had ended. The moment he was thrown into a cell, he collapsed on the half destroyed cot that was left for him as tried to regain his breathing. His chest felt heavy as he attempted to relax, but couldn't. Too much had happened for Orin to ever feel safe.

It felt like every time he escaped one shit problem, a bigger one happened to come around. A Targaryen queen keeping him as a prisoner was about a bad as it could get for him, and unfortunately, he didn't see anyway out of this one.

The idea of being a prisoner to a Targaryen was a joke in itself. Most of his life Orin had come to believe that the family had been destroyed after Robert's rebellion. Yet the moment the name was said, he knew it was true. All he had to do was look at her and know it to be true. The famous white hair of a Targaryen was a sign for everyone to know.

Orin hadn't expected to feel such anger towards the girl, knowing she wasn't guilty of her father's crimes. Yet he did, and it scared him because he prided himself on being able to do the right thing. Hating someone because of another's crimes wasn't the kind of person he wanted to be. It seemed the longer he fought, the more cynical he got.

The rattling of chains broke his half slumber as he turned towards the gate. His hand had been shackled to the bed, making it quite difficult to move. Most of his time in Essos had been in chains it seemed.

Surprised to who it was, Orin masked his emotions and returned to look up at the ceiling. From the corner of his eyes he saw a guard bring what he assumed was a stool before leaving and closing the door. The room was silent as Orin laid resting on the cot with the queen standing over him.

He expected a guard with a knife before the queen's visit, but stranger things had happened.

"I have to be honest," Orin spoke in the darkness. "I did not think you'd be the one to kill me. Assumed you'd have a guard do it."

Behind his words, Dany could hear the fear. "I'm not here to kill you."

"No?" Orin turned to her, and was a bit surprised to see her sitting so closely. He hated that even in the darkness, and the truth of her name, he still found her so unique. "Why are you here then?"

"To apologize."

Eyes wide in shock, Orin shifted in pain, as the manacle around his wrist rubbed up against his injured hand. Seeing his discomfort, Dany hesitated for a moment before pulling out the key to his chains.

Neither was sure who was more nervous, but slowly Dany reached her hand out and unchained his arm. The loud bang of the metal hitting the floor lifted the room as the two stared at each other.

Unsure what to do, Dany looked down, eyeing his covered hand. "The men you came with, they told me what you did. What you lost to free them."

The memory of his torture was all too fresh in his head as he sat quietly. It was easier being angry with this queen then it was trying to understand whether or not she was truly being kind to him.

"What my father did to yours was a terrible crime," She continued softly. "You may not believe me, but I am truly sorry for your loss. I punished many men in this city for taking away children from theirs families, but I cannot give you the justice you deserve. Nothing I say or do can bring your father back and for that I apologize."

Her words surprised him as he felt himself speak slowly. "It was almost easier never knowing who he truly was."

"We all have to live with terrible truths," Dany offered.

Orin wasn't sure what was worse, living with the fact that your father had been brutalized in front of hundreds, or being the daughter of the man capable of such brutality. Both a different side of a coin, both terrible in there own way.

"So you're a Stark," Dany began hesitantly.

"Only in name," Orin mumbled back, knowing it was true. He was Dornish, had been all his life. "I never met another Stark until recently."

"Yet you refer to yourself as one."

That was true. "People that I loved died because of the truth. I won't turn away what I am and let their deaths be for nothing."

His mothers violet eyes flashed through his head as he spoke. Her death had happened so that he could know the truth, so turning his back know wasn't an option. Whether the world accepted him as a Stark was a different story, but he was tired of hiding.

"My guards will have you cleaned," Dany rose from her seat, a distant look in her eyes. "And will find you a more suitable room."

Nodding his head, Orin watched her walk towards the door before he called out. "May I ask you for something?"

Turning carefully, Dany nodded.

"Can I eat?"

Orin wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a trace of a smile.

* * *

Orin half expected a quick meal in his former room but was more then surprised to find himself dining with the queen. They sat opposite of one another both regarding the other quietly. There was still a matter of lack of trust between the two but they hadn't been hostile with each other since the throne room.

"Your grace." Turning in his seat, Orin watched as the bearded man from the throne room entered and bowed lightly. "Hizdahr wishes to meet you once more to discuss the fighting pits."

Sighing in frustration, Dany shook her head. "It's very late. I'll speak to him tomorrow and once again decline his proposal."

Nodding his head, the man hesitated unsure what to do.

"Leave us," Dany ordered. Looking up, she eyed the man hard. "I'll be fine."

Without another word, the man left, giving one last look at Orin on his way out, before it was just the two of them once more. He tried to hold back a smile from the distrust from the man but failed.

"Your lover doesn't seem to trust me," Orin began, turning to her. Her eyes widened for a moment and Orin knew he'd guessed right.

"Should he have doubts," Dany asked, not bothering to deny it.

"Does it matter?" Orin countered. "I'm already here, which means you ignored his advice anyways."

"His name is Daario Naharis and he's the captain of my Second Sons."

Orin knew the company. "You have sell swords fighting for you."

Dany could hear the skeptical tone in his voice. "I don't pay anyone to fight for me. Every man who wishes to take up arms for my cause is free to do as he pleases."

"Even if it means never fighting," Orin suggested.

"Even then."

Orin never heard of sell swords fighting free of charge, but he didn't press the matter. Instead he began to eat slowly as she watched him. It was a little embarrassing being watched like this but not more so then not being able to cut your own food.

His hand remained covered as he eyed the piece of meat in his hand. Sighing in frustration, Orin stabbed the mean with his knife and picked up a piece of bread. He should have made Zazhor suffer more for what he did to him.

"Would you like someone to come cut your meat?" Dany asked. She did her best not to smile before her noticed his solemn one.

"No," Orin whispered, his eyes falling on his hand. He wondered if it would effect his fighting but thought against it. Apparently Zazhor had been kind enough not to cut off his right fingers. A consolation in a terrible memory.

"I'm sorry for what those men did to you," Dany spoke, eyeing his broken figure. She imagined under all the cuts and bruises and sorrowful looks he was a handsome man, but all she saw was a shattered form of it.

"I shouldn't feel too sorry for myself." Thinking about Rendal, Orin knew he was lucky enough to be alive. "I'm still breathing. For now."

Dany shook her head. "You still think I'm going to kill you?"

"I'm not sure," Orin answered honestly. "Many people have tried to kill me in the last year, so it's become expected. If it ends up being you, I guess it's an improvement."

"How so?"

Remembering some of the faces, Orin recalled a few of them. "Lannisters, Greyjoys, slavers, it's all the same. None of them are self proclaimed queens though."

Hardening at the term, Dany's smile dropped. "I'm the rightful queen."

"And what right do you have?" Orin asked.

Dany's eyes flashed as she spoke with authority. "My ancestors ruled for generations, we built the Iron Throne, we conquered the lands, and I will do the same. It was taken from us, and I will get it back."

Orin laughed. "Taken from you? Your father lost the throne the day he murdered mine. Your precious throne was rightfully taken from your family."

Anger coursed through Dany as she rose in anger. "So you'd have the Lannisters keep the throne? Or the Baratheons?"

"I don't care about your damn throne," Orin mumbled. "You conquered this city with no claim to it, but here you stand, the Queen of Mereen. If you sail to Westeros demanding that every Lord bend the knee because of a rightful claim, they'll never follow you. To them you're the daughter of the man who nearly destroyed the seven kingdoms."

The two stared each other down, neither willing to look away. Both had there opinions, both thought they were right, but only one had any power to do anything about it. Dany held all the power, and the sooner Orin realized that the better.

Still, Dany could see the frustration in Orin's eyes as he looked at her.

"Who would you have sit on the throne then?" Dany demanded.

"Every rulers brought nothing but horror to my family under their rule. Seems I'm not good with kings."

"I am no king," Dany stated.

"Good point."

An understanding past between the two as they relaxed for the first time. Slowly Dany watched as Orin straightened in his chair and poured himself some water. It was a simple act, but one Dany knew meant that he was getting a bit comfortable. Remembering what Barristan and her had discussed, she rose from the table to retrieve something.

Orin noticed her movements and stiffened at the sight when she returned with a very familiar sight. Covered in her arms, Dawn rested as she approached him.

"I believe this is yours," Dany offered. She was startled at the speed as he took it, and sat across him once more. "It's very beautiful."

Orin held the sword, slowly unsheathing it to see if it truly was there. Seeing the unmistakable pale steel, he relaxed in his spot. "Thank you."

Dany smiled as she remembered a fond memory. "Ser Barristan told me stories about how him and your uncle use to protect my brother. He called Arthur Dayne the greatest swordsman he'd even seen. Even my other brother Viserys mentioned his skill many times over."

"So many great men envied this sword," Orin whispered, mostly to himself. "And my mother trusted me with it. I'll never understand that."

"Those slavers you freed would think otherwise."

Shaking his head, Orin couldn't possibly expect her to understand. "You don't know what I've done. Who's died because of me. Trust me, I'm the last person who deserves the honor of wielding this sword."

His doubt confused Dany. "Then why do you? Why continue to fight? Ser Barristan told me you should have died from your wounds. Why carry on?"

"What do they say about northerners?" Orin actually laughed. "Stubborn folk. Suppose I have more of my father in me then I thought."

"Better you then me."

Looking up to meet her eyes, Orin smirked at her joke "I imagine this is the moment you ask me to recognize you as the rightful Queen."

Feeling the mood rise once again, Daenerys nodded. "Whether or not you agree to my claim, I will take the 7 kingdoms. You're the eldest Stark, the rightful heir to Winterfell. Swear me your allegiance and I will give it to you when I rule."

"Will I have to call you Queen?" Orin asked, a hint of sarcasm. "And your sell sword? Will he be my new king?"

Dany momentarily froze. "There's a distinction between a lover and a husband. Surely you understand the difference?"

"Can't say that I do," Orin drummed his fingers against the table.

Dany's eyes rose. "Are you unmarried?"

Orin felt the heat rise on his cheeks but refused to show it. "Yes. Why? Are you looking for a king?"

"You're very droll," Dany answered. Orin could see the hint of a smile behind her mask.

Here he was, breaking bread with the woman whose family was supposed to be feared throughout the 7 kingdoms, and they were talking like old friends. Orin wondered if perhaps this was all a ploy. Putting up a kind front to make him believe that she truly was the best choice.

"It doesn't matter," Orin waved off. "I don't want Winterfell. I'm not going to bend my knee for a castle. It belongs to Ned Stark's children, not me. I will not take a family's home away from them because of my name."

"Most men would jump at that chance," Dany stressed.

"Well I suppose I'm not as smart as most men."

"No your not," Dany agreed. She thought a long moment before she spoke again. "Just more honorable."


	25. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Sleep didn't come easy that night for Dany as she tossed and turned trying to get comfortable. It'd been a few hours since her dinner with Orin Stark and ever since she hadn't stopped thinking about their talk. Unlike the rest of Meereen or the people she met in Essos, Orin was one of the men who she'd have to eventually convince to follow under her rule in Westeros.

He was Westerosi, much like Jorah and Barristan, and both men had quickly become important to her because they understood the lands she wished to rule. As much guidance as she had here in Meereen, no one in this city understood the Lords in Westeros like the people who hailed from Westeros.

Orin Stark was not a lord, but his name alone carried a great deal. If she couldn't convince someone who had nothing to lose to follow her, what chance did she have with Lords who did? They'd protect their castles and families and brand her a Mad Queen just like her father.

Barristan believed that the lords would eventually rally behind her cause if they believed she could win, but she didn't want that. The people who followed her believed in her, believed in what she wanted to accomplish. If she accepted that lords would join her out of fear of losing, how would she be any different then all the other kings before her.

Aegon used a great deal of fear to have those submit under his rule, but she wanted more then that. The world she wanted for her people had to be better then all the others, because the others brought them to where they were now.

A broken system.

Still, she wasn't foolish enough to believe every lord would submit to her. There were still some who called themselves king in Westeros and she knew they would not give up that claim so easily. It seemed everything she did now came with great difficulty.

As much as she wanted to think about Westeros, Dany still had problems to deal with in Meereen. She'd made a promise to protect this city, and the others she'd conquered, and she planned on doing that. Finding out the men responsible for the Sons of the Harpy was of paramount to fulfill that promise.

It seemed all her problems decided to keep her up that night, yet just when she was about to close her eyes one more time, Dany heard a noise nearby. Lifting her head, she saw Daario approach her casually from her window, once again sneaking it. It still confused her as to why he decided on sneaking in when she was sure half the pyramid knew of their relationship.

"My queen," Daario smiled.

Sitting up, Dany sighed. "What are you doing here?"

Eyeing the bed knowingly, Daario removed his vest. "I believe you know what we're doing."

Anger rose on her face as Dany glared at him. "I'm not some whore who sits idly by waiting for you Daario Naharis."

Seeing her true feelings on the matter, Daario's smile dropped as he bent to one knee. Quickly grabbing her hand his, he smiled sincerely at her. "Of course not. You know that's not how I think of you."

Dany wanted to stay angry, but decided not to torment the man for caring about her. "I know."

Daario's smile dropped a moment at her tone. "You're troubled?"

"Of course I'm troubled," Dany pulled her hand back as she turned towards the open doors of her balcony. "The cities tearing itself apart, and we're no closer to finding out the people responsible."

"Will find them," Daario assured her. Yet he knew that wasn't all of it. "But that's not all of it, is it?"

"What?"

Smile gone, Daario shook his head. "This is about that Stark boy?"

The name had Dany harden her gaze. "What about him?"

"What did he say? What did he do?" Daario asked. Seeing the look his queen gave to him, Daario rose and headed towards the table to pour himself some wine. "Something happened didn't it?"

"Nothing happened," Dany lied.

"If you took the opinions of every person who ruled under you to heart, you wouldn't live a very peaceful life," Daario explained. He took a large sip before he waved his hand. "Don't listen to what the Stark boy said. What he thinks of you means nothing. You're a queen, and he's a son from the family who opposes you."

It wasn't said directly but Dany understood what Daario had meant. "You think I should kill him?"

"If what Ser Barristan said is true, then he has no one left." Once again Daario was by the queens side. "Starks, Lannisters, Baratheons, these are your enemies. There's only one thing you do with your enemies."

It would have been simple to rule that way. The way Ser Barristan talked about her father, she imagined he treated enemies the same way. Slaughter each and everyone without true cause or meaning. It was an easy way to think, but Dany's life had been anything but easy.

Shaking her head, she refused. "I will not kill a man because of his name."

"He was willing to," Daario pointed out.

"My father murdered his, he has a right to be angry."

Looking towards the table nearby, Daario smirked. "A day ago, this boy insulted you. Now you share meals and defend his honor. Should I be worried?"

"You were once sent to kill me and now you share my bed," Dany argued.

"Yes," Daario agreed. He knew she was right but quickly noticed she failed to answer the question. "So what will you do with him if not have him killed?"

Unsure of where he was going, Dany frowned. "What do you mean?"

"If he's telling the truth, then you have the heir to the north in your hands," Daario explained.

Dany rolled her eyes remembering her earlier conversation with the supposed heir to the north. "He does not want the north."

"What does he want?"

"I don't know." Thinking hard on it, Dany realized that maybe she could find out. "But perhaps you can help."

"Of course."

Smiling at his eagerness, Dany spoke. "Get close to him. Figure out what it is he wants. Why he's here in Essos?"

"Why not ask him yourself?"

The history between Starks and Targaryens made the idea difficult. "He still sees me as the enemy. It'll be much easier for you."

"As you wish," Daario nodded, before sitting himself onto the bed. Slowly he descended towards her, his face stopping above hers. He waited a moment before pushing down to claim her lips but was stopped by her hand. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not in the mood," Dany whispered, looking back up at his disappointment. She was a bit surprised herself; thinking maybe afterwards it might help her sleep easier, but she did not want it. Her mind was elsewhere at the moment. "That will be all."

Daario wanted to press the matter but thought against it. "My Queen."

Slowly Dany watched as the man nodded gracefully before heading outside her room. He was good to her, and he made her feel happy, but as she lied in silence, nothing felt right. She'd taken up residence in the great pyramid, taken a man into her bed, had trustworthy council from people she considered dear friends, and still Dany was unhappy.

If she closed her eyes, she could almost hear her dragons below shouting for her. Her failure at controlling them weighed heavily down on her as she thought of her other child, Drogon roaming free around Essos. Between the separation from her children and Meereens fragile state, Dany almost questioned her ability to rule.

Almost.

 _And what right do you have?_

Closing her eyes, Dany remembered what Orin Stark had said and frowned. She knew his words shouldn't have bothered her, like Daario said, but it did. She was a queen, and from what Barristan had told her, he'd been a bastard from Dorne all his life. It shouldn't have mattered what doubts or insults he threw her way. Yet a small part of her took his words to heart.

Sighing in frustration, Dany wondered if maybe Daario was right all along. Maybe tomorrow she would have him killed. She was stressed enough during the day with all the problems going on around her that she didn't need to be thinking about a Starks opinion before she slept.

* * *

"Are you sure you want to be doing that?"

Looking up at the reluctant face of Ser Barristan, Orin nodded. The next the day the knight had come to his original chambers to see him and caught him in the middle of the act of taking off all the bandages the healers had wrapped him in. He was tired of being covered up uncomfortably. If the injuries hadn't killed him, then he assumed it was okay.

"Are you in pain?" Barristan asked, seeing the muscles tense in the boys face.

"It's not the best feeling," Orin admitted, unwrapping the cloth around his hand. His back and chest were a little worse for ware but nothing to serious. His leg, or more precisely his calf, was still painful enough that he walked with a limp.

All that was left was his hand and face. Looking down, Orin was far more concerned with how his hand would feel then how his face would look. His ability to fight was the only that he knew he could rely on, and hoped it wouldn't falter his skill. An ugly scar was of little consequence to him, he wasn't some highborn lord who cared about how he looked at a feast.

First he removed the wrap on his face, slowly as it peeled off against the cut. He held a mirror in his good hand as he accessed the damage. Zazhor had been kind enough not to poke his eye out, but still, the cut ran from the edge of his eye towards his jaw. It was still red and swollen, but overtime it'd heal, never fully though.

"You're lucky you didn't lose an eye," Barristan offered.

"Yes," Orin agreed, turning to his hand.

Hesitantly he began to unwrap it and hope for the best. Whoever patched him had done a terrific job since it took him a few moments just to finally reach the skin. Peeling off the last of it, Orin's eyes widened at the sight. It was hard to look at for a moment, just staring at the bottom where his two fingers had been. For however long he lived, every time he looked down, he'd be reminded of Zazhor's cruelty.

Looking up, Orin met Barristan's timid face. He didn't want the man's pity, or anyone's. Fingers or no fingers, scars or no scars, this would not cripple him. Reaching for Dawn, Orin stood from the bed and strapped the belt around. The sword rested comfortably against his injured leg. He looked like a mess, and quite frankly felt like one, but rejected the notion of giving in.

"Are you sure you're fine?" Barristan asked one last time.

Orin nodded. "I am. Now what can I do for you Ser Barristan?"

The knight smiled at his stubbornness before remembering why he was there. "The Queen would like a word."

 _The Queen._ Orin thought. _This should be interesting._

* * *

Dany sat patiently alone in the room most of her council meetings took place. It'd been almost an hour since she'd sent Ser Barristan to escort her guest to her and he'd yet to return. She wondered if maybe something had happened but thought against it. Barristan Selmy had yet to fail her, and she imagined he never would during her reign.

Right on cue, Dany's eyes lifted as she spotted the knight enter the room with her guest. He bowed his head gracefully before turning towards Orin Stark and motioned him forward. It took all her strength not to gasp in shock at the sight of the man before her. Unlike yesterday where everything had been mostly covered, the wounds he suffered at the hands of the slavers were open for the world to see.

Her eyes didn't know where to look first as she first came upon his injured hands before looking up at the gash on his face. She felt foolish for looking and felt even worse when her eyes met his and saw shame in them. She wasn't sure why he felt that, knowing what he suffered had been no fault of his.

"My Lady," Orin greeted quietly.

Remaining calm at the title, Dany turned to Ser Barristan. "Leave us."

"Your grace."

Now alone again, Dany rose from her seat and approached her guest. He refused to look away and she stood mere inches away, once more looking at the cut on his face.

"Does it still hurt?" She asked.

Orin wanted to lie but found he couldn't. "Yes."

"The men who did it," Dany began, looking back down at his hand. "Are they dead?"

"I wouldn't be here if they weren't."

Once more her eyes met his. She'd seen a great number of people the past few years, many with different backgrounds and different looks. The Dothraki had been incredibly unique, just as the people in Qarth had been. Even now in Meereen, every day she saw how different each city was when it came to their citizens. Yet after all the people she'd met, never in her life had she seen eyes quite like Orin Starks.

She didn't feel lost in them like one does with their lover, but rather fascinated. It was so strange to see that shade of violet on a man that seemed so…hard. Dany didn't know much about northerners, and the only one she'd ever met had been Jorah, but she did know they were unlike any other folk in Westeros. They were tough, wild, and from the stories she knew, incredibly difficult to control.

Orin Stark highlighted these traits in the brief time she knew him.

Yet only his eyes shattered the image of his northern heritage. They almost looked out of place on him as he stared down at her. Dany hardly realized how tall he stood before she took a step back, looking away from his eyes.

"It's good they're dead," Dany finally said.

"Good?" Orin asked.

Turning back to him, her eyes hardened. "Men capable of horrors like that do not deserve to live."

"I imagine many of your citizens feel the same way," Orin mused. He remembered Vilar's depressed face after being thrown in chains. "It can't be easy living side by side with the men who owned them for much of their lives."

"No," Dany agreed. She knew the difficulties well enough to keep her sleepless many nights. "But I am not here to rule over a city and watch as it tears itself apart. The masters will be punished."

"The guilty," Orin corrected.

The subtle distinction had Dany looking up in anger. His refusal to call her queen and his constant need to question her was starting to annoy her. From her experience men who crossed her didn't last very long.

"The masters used slavery to get where they are," Dany said sternly. "I ended it. I made sure no man woman or child would ever be put in chains again. If they cannot abide by my new world, they'll suffer the consequences."

"All of them?"

Eyes hard, Dany took a step forward. "All of them."

"I don't think…"

Stepping another foot closer, Dany watched as Orin's words died in his mouth. They were close, very close, and she took the moment to make sure he understood who exactly was in charge right now.

"I did not bring you here to question my authority," Dany pressed. She saw his eyes flash in uncertainty. "Do not think because you aren't in a cell that gives you right to talk to me however you please. I am a queen, and right now, you're just a boy very far from home."

The anger in his eyes was almost too obvious to Dany, yet he relented with a nod. "Apologies…My Lady."

Dany's eyes flashed once more. He must have thought he was very funny insulting her like that to her face. It was almost as if he took great pleasure in annoying her. Still she refused to let the words of Orin Stark bother her too much.

Once more the tension was back between the two as they stared down one another. Thankfully, in that moment Daario decided to walk in and announce himself to the both of them.

"Is this a bad time?" Daario asked, a hint of a smile on his face.

Giving one last hard look at Orin, Dany turned to Daario and shook her head. "You're right on time. Please escort Lord Stark."

Dany took solace in the fact that the title bothered the man. She saw his body tense at her words and would have smiled at the fact.

"To the cells?" Orin asked.

Shaking her head, Dany smiled. "Apparently you've been asking to have your friend properly buried. I imagine you might want to say a few words as well. Daario will escort you there."

Momentarily stunned at the news, Orin wasn't sure what to do.

"Goodbye Lord Stark."

* * *

Orin's breaths were heavy as he looked up into the bright sky. He'd lived in warm climate all his life, but never had he experienced the burning temperatures he was feeling in Essos. Thankfully as he looked around the dirt hole he stood in, he was almost finished.

"Why not burn him?" Daario called from above. "We had a pyre made for him."

"He's from the north," Orin said. He didn't expect a man who sold his sword to understand what it meant to do the honorable thing. "He deserves a northern burial."

"Seems like a waste of time to me," Daario said.

Looking up at the man, Orin wondered why he was still here. "It's a good thing you aren't doing anything then."

"The wolf has a bite. Are all northerners so hard headed?"

"I'm not a northerner." The smirk of the man annoyed him, almost as much as what he'd said. "And you're very welcome to leave."

"And leave you armed and alone in our city," Daario pointed out. He shook his head. "That doesn't seem like a good idea."

"Our city," Orin repeated, turning back to the hole. The shovel felt weird in his hands now that he was missing two fingers. "Careful, you're not king yet."

"I have no desire to be king," The man answered honesty. Orin had no reason to doubt the man, what good would lying to him do. "It's only her I care for."

Whether or not the man was good enough for the queen mattered little to Orin. It made sense to him that she'd taken this man into her bed. From the little he knew, he could tell the sell sword would do whatever she asked of him. He worshipped her and that must have made her feel powerful. Orin had gotten a glimpse at what happened when you questioned the queen's authority, and knew then and there, that she wouldn't have it.

The sell sword followed orders well, like a dog, and for now that was enough for the queen.

Satisfied with the depth, Orin crawled out of the hole and headed towards Rendal's body. He was glad to see the body had been covered. The sight of the dead man who he now considered a friend wouldn't have been a pretty one. Rendal had already looked terrible last time he saw him, he didn't need to see how time fucked him up even more.

Pushing his hands underneath the body, Orin lifted him slowly, careful not to drop him. He was heavy, for heavier then he expected, but he didn't ask for help. Instead he slowly made his way towards the hole, and dropped the body inside. A loud thump was all he heard as he stared down at his friend.

He didn't deserve to die the way he did, but Orin was glad that he'd gotten the chance to bury Rendal from Bear Island the way he was supposed to be. He couldn't save him, but he did his best to honor him.

Taking the shovel once more, Orin began to cover the grave.

* * *

Orin expected to find himself back in his room after burying Rendal but instead sat comfortably inside a tavern with Daario seated across from him. An older gentleman had brought the two a drink a couple minutes ago, and since then the two had remained in silence.

Taking the time to look around, Orin took in the sights of the establishment. Unlike in Dorne where the places he frequently went for a drink with Rydan were loud and cluttered, the place he now sat in was quiet and empty. Empty chairs littered around their table and the only people besides the tavern owner had been half a dozen men in the corner talking quietly.

In fact, remembering their walk through the streets of Mereen, Orin noticed that many roads and alleys had been empty. There were no citizens around to notice. Whatever had happened under the queen's rule, clearly the city hadn't flourished under it.

"You don't talk much," Daario noticed. He took a sip of his ale before looking down at Orin's sword. "Apparently that's the most famous sword Ser Barristan tells me. You know how to use it?"

"I'd be dead if I didn't."

Smiling, Daario gestured towards his injured hand that rested against the table. "Must be difficult now."

Looking where his fingers used to be, Orin shook his head. "I use my right."

"That's a greatsword," Daario pointed out. "Two hands. I might not look like I understand the difference when it comes to fighting like a Westerosi knight, but I assure you, I know the craft well."

"Well I use one hand." He didn't need tips on how to fight from someone he didn't trust.

"Fair enough." Feeling his drinking partner's walls come up, Daario tried a different tactic. "Speaking of Westeros, you're a long way from home. Running or hiding?"

Running or hiding?

He wasn't sure he was doing. The plan he made with Conin died the moment his friend passed away in the burning ship. Now he was just the poor fool trapped across the narrow sea with no chance of getting back.

"Says the man serving the rightful queen of Westeros," Orin countered. "Your queens reign in Meereen doesn't quite meet the qualifications of ruling over Westeros. I'm afraid it's long way away."

"She'll eventually turn her sights west, and once she does the Lords of Westeros will have no idea what's coming."

His belief in his queen was admirable. Orin had no doubt Daario believed in his queen's plans to rule. He was sure many of the people who followed her felt the same, but belief did not win wars. Men won wars, and from the little he'd seen from the city, Daenerys was missing quite a few to rule 7 kingdoms.

"You're a few men short," Orin smiled. He thought of the resistance they'd face once a Targaryen reached the shores of Westeros. "I don't think you understand how difficult it will be taking 7 resisting kingdoms."

Daario only laughed. "Men aren't the only way to take a kingdom."


	26. Chapter 25

**Pheline: Thank you, and sadly no. Specific rules on this site about doing stories like that and unfortunately they aren't allowed. Although I am surprised after so long for someone to mention them hahahah.**

* * *

Chapter 25

The city of Meereen was unlike any other in the world. Whereas ones in Westeros had castles and keeps for their people, the great pyramid was the pinnacle structure of the city. Orin had never such a building before in his life as he remembered looking upon its greatness for the first time.

Walking along the halls with Daario, it was easy to notice that the pyramid they currently occupied was unlike anything else in the city. Of the few rooms Orin had already seen, everything was built with it's own uniqueness. There wasn't a single room that looked like another, giving the rarity of the building to be that much more prominent.

The only thing in common with Kings Landing was that like the Red Keep, a poorer population surrounded the great pyramid. The streets leading up to the pyramid were eerily similar to Flea Bottom. Yet, poor or no poor, the pyramid the queen occupied was an incredible sight.

Passing by the throne room, Orin noticed an obscene amount of people waiting patiently. Only the guards he now knew as unsullied were present, and neither group said a word. It was silent as if no one was there at all.

As Orin and Daario got closer, the first man in line widened his eyes at the two before heading over. His unusual attire was what the masters apparently dressed themselves in as Daario had pointed out earlier during their time in the city.

"Hizdahr," Daario said. Orin could have sworn he heard a bit of annoyance in the sell sword. "What can I do for you?"

"I'd like an audience with the queen," The man asked quietly as he gave Orin a once over.

"I believe the queen was final when she gave you her answer," Daario explained.

"That very well may be true," Hizdahr answered back. "But I'd rather much discuss this with her then you."

Giving the two one last look, the nobleman rejoined the others in line. Daario could only shake his head before leading Orin past the group of people and towards their destination. You'd have to be a fool not to see the tension between the two men but Orin thought against asking head on. Instead he decided to go about it a different way.

"Seems like a persistent man," Orin offered.

Laughing out loud, Daario didn't even bother to deny it. "He's a snake. The masters deserve to be punished, not ask for audiences with the queen."

"Punished?" Orin repeated. That was a different way of saying killed.

"There only interested in staying rich. Money is all they know."

"How so?"

"There are many great traditions in Essos that you foreigners wouldn't understand. One of which are the fighting pits."

The term was lost on Orin. "Fighting pits?"

"The concepts rather simple really," Daario explained. He led them past another hallway and up a stairs. "Men inside a pit fighting till the death."

"For what purpose?"

The idea was barbaric. The only thing Orin could think of that came close to what Daario explained was the tournaments held at great castles back home. Of course no men fought till the death at these gatherings, making the custom very sensible to Orin. That wasn't to say people never died during a joust, but the purpose was to unseat the man, not kill him.

"Men fight for different reasons. Until recently the fighting pits were a way of making money for the masters. Now that slavery is over, they've taken quite the hit."

"That's good to hear."

"Maybe," Daario mused, before stopping them both. He looked at Orin seriously as he spoke. "But I grew up in the fighting pits. I understand what they could do for a man. What it did for me."

"Fighting shouldn't be for entertainment," Orin argued.

"Why not? If men enjoy killing, why not have them kill for people who enjoy watching? What makes dying in a battle field more honorable then dying in a pit?"

It was a shame that the man actually thought what he believed in was right. Whatever pleasures Orin got out of killing those who wronged him, he knew the difference between killing for reason rather then sport, and he prayed to every god that he would continue to do so.

"I don't expect a sell sword to know anything about honor," Orin whispered back.

Taking a step closer, Daario eyed him hard. "Just because you carry around a fancy sword, doesn't make you a great warrior. You want to do the honorable thing? Go ahead, you'll end up like your father. But I choose to live, and just because I make money out of it doesn't diminish that, rather makes me smart for getting paid to do something I'm good at."

The mention of his father had Orin drop his hand towards his sword.

"You sure you want to do this?" Daario smiled.

"Brandon Stark was a greater man then you'll ever be," Orin spoke quietly. His hand gripped the hilt of Dawn tight before it dropped. "But I'm not going to dishonor his memory by dying at the hands of another Targaryen. The moment I kill you, I die. You're not worth my life."

"You're so sure you'd win?" Daario asked, a little impressed.

Refusing to give the man the satisfaction of answering, Orin took a step back. "We shouldn't keep your queen waiting."

"I like you," Daario smirked at him. Giving Orin a tap on the shoulder, he continued past ahead. "Come on Stark."

The man's aloofness confused him as he followed Daario up another set of stairs. One moment they were close to drawing swords, and the next he was smiling like they were best of friends. Maybe the customs really were different in Essos.

The familiar sight of the room he'd shared a meal in with the queen came into view as Orin followed Daario inside. There, sitting by the table with Ser Barristan standing nearby, the queen sat with a smile on her face.

She hadn't noticed them and for a moment, Orin felt his insides turn. Without the history her name carried, or the little he knew about her, Orin could only see a girl sit happily in the sunlight with a mesmerizing smile. It wasn't because she was beautiful, or because she was a queen, or any other trait that could sway a man, it was because in this moment, without knowing anything that was going on around them, Orin could only see pure joy come from her face.

He'd forgotten what it looked like to be happy. Yet looking at Daenerys Targaryen smile at Ser Barristan Selmy, he knew that's what it was.

"Your grace," Daario interrupted. The moment he spoke her smile dropped and Orin was quickly reminded of the real world once more. "Hizdahr wishes to speak with you, along with hundreds more."

Sighing in frustration, Dany turned to Barristan with a knowing look. "Will you be joining us Ser Barristan?"

"I think I can protect you your grace," Daario added before the man could speak.

"I think I can protect me," Dany answered sarcastically. Orin had to hold back a smile as she turned to Barristan. "Go Ser Barristan, sing a song for me."

"Your grace." Nodding his head, Barristan rounded the corner and headed towards Orin and Daario.

Looking quickly towards the queen, Orin caught Dany already watching him intently. He nearly took a step back at her powerful gaze.

"Perhaps Lord Stark would like to join to Ser Barristan," The queen offered. She had a small smile on her face, an almost taunting one. "I'm sure he has a great number of questions about his uncle."

The name bothered Orin but knew she did it on purpose. As long as he continued to refuse her as his queen, she'd continue to mock him as Lord Stark. Still, he supposed the name she had for him was better then having him killed. He imagined Joffrey would have his head on a spike if he had refused to call him king so many times.

Little victories.

Nodding his head towards Ser Barristan, Orin turned towards the queen before he spoke. "Of course My Lady."

* * *

Once again Orin walked the streets of Meereen but this time with someone he didn't mind. In fact Ser Barristan was the only person in this city Orin felt comfortable around. He was the only one from his homeland and the only real person who Orin felt he could understand. Of course it didn't help that very few people in this city did not speak the same language as him. So he appreciated the rare moment with the knight.

"You still refuse to call her queen," Barristan spoke up.

Orin turned towards him as he walked alongside him in the empty street. "And that bothers you?"

"Your uncle refused to call Joffrey his king. In the end it cost Lord Stark his life."

"Joffrey was no king," Orin snapped, a little too harshly.

"You'll find no quarrels with me," Barristan said truthfully. The knight still felt angry at his dismissal.

"You think your queen will kill me because I refuse to acknowledge her claim to the throne?"

It seemed petty, but people had killed for less.

"No." It sounded as if the man truly believed that. "A ruler who uses fear to make those follow them isn't one who inspires loyalty. Eventually the people will turn on them when they realize that the cost of their life is better then the life they lived under that rulers thumb.

"The Mad King used fear to keep his kingdom and in the end his rule ended with his death. Daenerys is not her father. Thousands of men woman and children do not follow her out of fear. She gave them the courage to take back their lives and believe in a world that's better then the terrible one they were used to. I've served 3 kings in my lifetime, she's the only one I truly believe in because of that."

Having the belief of a knight was a great honor, Orin would know. He carried the belief of Conin on his shoulder for most of his life like a badge. It made him feel proud to have such a man believe in him the way his friend did.

Ser Barristan Selmy was one of the greatest knights in recent memory and probably the most famous fighter living. So to have his belief and trust was a great honor as well. It was earned, and whatever Daenerys had done, she clearly had a devote follow in Barristan the bold.

"And her father?" Orin asked. He remembered that the Mad King had started off good as well. "What if one day she decides to burn a city to the ground? Or watch as a son strangles himself to death trying to save his father? Will you still believe in her then? You saw what the Mad King did, you knew his cruelty, and still you protected him. My uncle protected him. How could I believe in a monarch when their own men will turn the other cheek during their tyranny?"

It was a hard realization for Orin to admit, but one he knew to be true. His uncle was the greatest swordsman who ever lived. One of the most honorable men there was. Yet he stood by and protected a madman. He wondered if his uncle stood in the throne room watching his father die.

Looking back at Ser Barristan, Orin felt badly seeing the conflict in the man's eyes. "I meant no disrespect Ser Barristan."

"And you've given none," The man smiled kindly. Stopping them in their tracks, the man grabbed his shoulder gently. "I cared for your mother once, a long time ago. She was without a doubt the most enchanting woman I'd ever seen. Not because of her beauty, any man could see that, but her grace. She was such a kind soul. Her brother was one of my closest friends. You could not find a more honorable man then Ser Arthur Dayne. Your family has meant a great deal to me in my life, so I feel very comfortable saying to you that I've made many mistakes. I watched good men die, your father included, because I was too stubborn to do anything otherwise. I have to live with those mistakes Orin, till the day I die. All I could do in the little time I have left is make sure that the best person for Westeros sits on the Iron Throne."

The pain was evident on Barristan's face. It took a lot of courage to admit to when you were wrong, and Orin imagined it was even harder when you admitted it to others. Barristan Selmy was a good man; Orin knew that from the little time they spent together. If he was strong enough to admit his faults, then Orin had to be strong enough to accept them.

"I hope you're right," Orin smiled gently.

"If you believe anything I say, believe this. She is unlike any other person I've ever met. Give her a chance. I swear on my honor she's the best chance Westeros has."

"A chance?" Orin repeated. He thought he was mad for even thinking about it, but seeing the old mans face, he saw the belief in his eyes. Nodding his head slightly, he smiled. "I think I can do that."

Barristan's hopeful smile was cut off by a loud noise in the city. Both the men's eyes lifted as the sound of bells was heard off loudly in the distance. The empty street they occupied soon filled with scared citizens as they headed towards them in fear. Orin looked around trying to find the cause of the chaos but saw nothing.

"What's happening?" Orin asked.

Drawing his sword, Barristan turned towards him. "Get back to the pyramid."

"I'm not leaving you," Orin insisted. Pulling out his own sword, he held Dawn ready.

Orin could see the struggle on Barristan's face but he relented. "Come on then."

Racing through the streets, the two did their best not to collide with any frightened people. The bells above them started to get louder as the streets started to empty. Soon all the scared people running had disappeared leaving only Orin and Ser Barristan.

Orin's body still ached but he did his best to ignore it. Instead, he kept quiet and let the veteran knight lead as the two made their way into an alleyway. Off in the distance the sound of metal clashing could be heard as they quickened their pace. Unsure what they'd face, Orin cleared his mind and readied himself.

Together they turned a corner as saw mayhem ensue. Standing in the middle of men covered in golden masks, an injured unsullied warrior crouched on one knee in pain. Most of the men were too busy fighting him off to notice Ser Barristan run in a stab one from the back. Falling dead on the floor, the rest of the golden masked men noticed their deceased friend, and turned to them.

Readying his sword, Orin eyed the dozen or more men and their surroundings. The shallow alleyway wasn't ideal for such a large sword, but Orin would have to make due. Standing side by side with one of the greatest knights, Orin charged first into the mob of men.

Their small daggers could hardly reach him before he struck one down, slashing his neck. Quickly spinning towards the others, Orin tried to grip his sword with both hands to better defend himself, but found he couldn't grasp the sword well enough.

The masked men took the moment to strike, slashing a dagger cleanly across his upper leg. Flinching in pain, Orin was saved from another attack when Barristan drove in with his sword, before pushing the man back with his foot, and swinging his sword towards his head.

Orin didn't have time to admire as the head split clean off, as the two stood back to back surrounded by men. The golden masked men with spears soon advanced, sending a fury towards them. Orin dodged the first, but heard the second connect with Barristan behind him. He wanted to turn and help but soon two more with daggers charged at him.

He parried the attack, and quickly pulled his small dagger from his own belt and shoved it into one of the men's belly. His grip in the dagger loosened with his missing fingers, so Orin abandoned his blade and spun to the next one.

His body began to tire from all his old wounds and knew he wouldn't last much longer. Hearing another scream come from the old knight, Orin killed off another attacker and made his way towards Barristan.

The knight had taken a dagger in the back as Orin quickly shoved Dawn through the back of the man responsible. Pushing him aside, Orin leaned down, trying to help the man up.

"Are you all right?" Orin asked breathlessly.

Looking up, he saw half a dozen more ready their knife's to finish them off before the forgotten unsullied solider stabbed one in the back with a spear. Taking the surprised moment, Orin lunged forward, cleaving a man's head clean off.

Together, him and the unsullied battled off the remaining ones, driving their attacks away from Ser Barristan. The unsullied spear was very useful as he jammed it towards the golden masks, keeping them at a distance. As soon as one of them was brave enough to attack, that's when Orin struck, killing him.

They quickly dispatched the last of them before turning to Ser Barristan who'd taken it upon himself to fight off three more. Orin watched in awe as the knight, even with two knifes stuck in his torso, took down the remaining three with such ease. It was brilliant to see until the man collapsed onto one knee.

Orin's eyes widened at the sight of one of the masked men rising from the floor, barely alive, raise his sword towards Ser Barristan. He was too far to save the man's life as he watched the sword fall.

In an instant, a spear hurled through the air past him, and into the chest of the masked man. Orin turned to the unsullied soldier, who had now collapsed onto the wall nearby. Surrounded by dead men, Orin sprinted to Ser Barristan.

Grabbing hold of his shoulders, he tried to lift him off the ground and onto his back. "Come on. Stay with me."

Orin felt his hands bloody as he held the dying man. Barristan's eyes were heavy as he looked up. He tried to speak, but only his heavy breaths could be heard. Unsure what to do, Orin looked around frantically, trying to see if anyone had come to help.

"Stay with me," Orin whispered, holding the man close. He could feel the life leave the man's body as he shook him violently. "No. No no no you don't die. This is not your time."

Lifting his head, Orin began to shout.


	27. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

The mood was morbid as the occupants in the room stood quiet over the sleeping body of Ser Barristan Selmy. The wounds were almost too much for the old man as he lie resting after the battle in the alleyway against the Sons of the Harpy. Greyworm, as Orin had come to learn, had survived his wounds and lay resting in his room as he'd yet to wake as well.

Orin now stood nearby watching as the queen grieved for her injured alley. He could see the pain on her face as she rested her hand gently on the body of the knight. It felt like an eternity ago since Orin had walked in on Dany smiling at Ser Barristan. Now the man was nearly gone, and with it, the queen's joyful smile.

Nearby, Daario also stood, doing his best to give the queen her space. None of them had said a word since they'd entered the room to see the man lying peacefully on a bed. The shock that this legendary warrior was in his current state was almost unfathomable.

Turning his head, Orin watched as Hizdahr carefully walked into the room, flanked by two guards. He could see the trepidation on the man's face as he tried his best to say the right words.

"I'm so sorry my queen, "Hizdahr began carefully. He seemed genuine enough but Orin hardly knew the man. "He's a strong man, he'll recover soon."

"Barristan the bold," Dany answered softly. Those were the first words she'd said, angst clear in her voice. "He served my family for years before the downfall, and after so long, he still sought me out to serve under me. He's a loyal friend. And he was almost killed in an alley by men who hide in shadows."

So rarely did men of honor die the way they lived their life. As honorable as Ned Stark was, he was branded a traitor in front of thousands and executed on wrongful charges. Before him, his father was killed after his own sister had been stolen away. Then their father, a man who chose to fight for his son, was forced to burn in front of hundreds of men.

It seemed regardless of how honorable you were, a terrible death lied waiting for you. Conin and Robb had died terribly because of cowards who'd yet to suffer those consequences. No matter how far he looked, Orin only saw injustice in the world.

He wondered what shit way he'd go when the time came. Thankfully though, Barristan Selmy's time hadn't come yet.

"We can do door-to-door searchers," Daario finally addressed the queen. "Rally the unsullied, and together clean out each area until we find the men responsible."

"I preferred your earlier suggestion," Dany nodded, turning to Daario. "Gather the masters."

Orin's eyes widened as the two guards seized Hizdahr.

"Your grace please!" The man shouted, as the men dragged him away. "Please I had nothing to do with it."

Once more the three were left alone, only this time the somber mood had changed drastically. There was a tension in the air as Orin quickly made his way towards where the queen stood next to Ser Barristan.

"You can't do this," Orin demanded.

Dany's eyes flashed in anger. "I don't believe I needed your permission."

"Your going to kill men for crimes they did not commit?" Orin asked, appalled at the idea.

"And how do you know?" Daario pointed out. The sell sword approached him, his normal smile now replaced with a frown. "You don't know these men. You don't know this city. And you can't possibly understand how dangerous they are."

"So your plan is to kill them before they commit a crime."

"I don't expect a foreign boy to understand how things are done in this part of the world."

It was a wonder the whole city hadn't been slaughtered already with advice like that. Looking towards the queen, he saw her emotionless face. Whatever he said, their minds were made up.

"Your council is from a man who sells his sword to kill people regardless of their innocence," Orin said quietly. He saw both react to his words but did not give them a chance to speak. "And now you wish to imprison men based solely off their background. You're a queen to your people, not a monster."

Orin saw the struggle in Dany's eyes but Daario spoke up before she could answer.

"Careful boy," The sell sword said. "Your lucky our queen ignored my advice in having you killed."

Orin suspected as much as he glared at the man. "You do not frighten me Daario Naharis. I know what kind of man you are, and it's not the kind a ruler should listen to."

"And who should she listen to? You? For all we now you're just a motherless bastard from Dorne."

Within an instant, Orin drew Dawn, resting the blade cleaning against the neck of Daario. The sell sword seemed surprised from the quick draw as he stared down at the blade. It would have been easy to kill him, and gods willing he wanted to.

"Enough," Dany ordered. Taking a step beside Daario, Dany gently rested her hand against Dawn as she looked at Orin knowingly. "Lower your weapon."

Looking past her, Orin stared hard at the man. He wanted to kill him, but remembering where he stood, he lowered his weapon. Spilling blood while Ser Barristan lie resting beside them was the wrong thing to do.

"I'm grateful for what you did. Greyworm and Ser Barristan would not be alive had you not gotten help," Dany said seriously. Taking a step closer however, her face-hardened. "But raise your weapon at one of my men again and I'll have you killed."

Orin imagined the look Dany was giving him in this moment was similar to the one her father gave to his. All he could see was anger in her eyes and for a moment, he wondered if he'd be burned to death like his grandfather.

Without another word, Dany turned towards the door, Daario soon following. It felt wrong to sit idly by and watch as she made a terrible mistake.

"If you do this," Orin started, loud enough to get her attention. He saw her turn slightly towards him. "You'll dishonor him."

Giving one last look at him, Orin watched as Dany left the room without another word. Alone now, with only Ser Barristan, Orin knew he had failed. Turning to the man, he eyed his now peaceful face. He fought believing in his queen, and Orin respected that.

 _It's not too late for her._ Orin thought, remembering the last thing he'd said to Ser Barristan. He'd still give her a chance. He just hoped she wouldn't make a terrible mistake.

* * *

Sitting quietly in his room, Orin rested Dawn gently across his lap as he wiped the blade down. It'd been three days since he'd cut down those men and the blood they shed was long gone. Still, he felt a sense of calmness as he slowly went back and forth against the blade. It was almost rhythmic to him.

News of the master's imprisonment had spread through the city quickly and Orin wondered how the people had taken it. He hadn't left the pyramid since he'd been ambushed, seeing as how the streets might have been too dangerous. The queen hadn't made an appearance, or any of her advisors, as the city looked to see what the next move would be.

A sense of shock had past through Orin after he had learned of the death of one of the men the queen had imprisoned. It should have been more shocking to hear that Daenerys actually had two dragons underneath the pyramid, but all he could think of was that a man was killed on suspicion. It could very well be the masters were behind the attacks, but to punish them without proper proof was wrong.

Ned Stark had been branded and killed as a traitor through false charges, and the country went to war soon after. How long would it take before the Meereenese believed they were better off without a ruler who kills men without proper leave?

"Lord Stark?"

Lifting his eyes towards the closed door, Orin quickly made his way over. Opening the door, Missandei, the queens Handmaiden, stood smiling politely at him. It'd been the first time anyone had visited him since the attack in the alley.

"My lady," Orin nodded. He could see the uneasiness on the woman's face and felt the same. They hardly knew each other as they stood in silence. "Is something wrong?"

Recovering from her hesitancy, Missandei shook her head. "No. I was just wondering if I could have a moment of your time?"

"Of course." Stepping aside, Orin allowed her to pass.

"You look well," She observed.

It was true, Orin hadn't felt this good in weeks. A few days of resting had done him wonders as he felt his body start to react to the down time. It helped that he had a roof over his head and food to eat, unlike past experiences. His injuries still ached, he expected they would for quite a long time, but it hadn't crippled him.

"I feel much better," Orin smiled lightly. He remembered that he wasn't the only one recovering. "And the unsullied? Greyworm was his name I believe. Is he okay?"

The happiness in Missandei's eyes was hard to miss. "He's woken. It seems he'll make a full recovery."

It seems the Son of the Harpy couldn't stop one piece of good news. "That's very good to hear."

"It is," Missandei agreed.

"And Ser Barristan?"

Shaking her head, Missandei smiled sadly. "No change."

Once more the woman just stood their staring, unsure what to say. It would have been cruel for the queen to send such a timid girl to escort him to the cells or worse. Yet it'd been three days, if he was to die, it'd been done.

"Is there anything else?" Orin asked slowly.

"There is." Taking a step closer, Orin saw the emotion on her face. "I just wanted to thank you. You risked your life for a stranger and because of it, he gets to live."

"It's nothing My Lady…"

"It is."

Missandei stared Orin down, refusing for him to believe that saving Greyworm had been just another act. Given the chance, Orin would have helped anyone in that position, regardless of his or hers importance. He saw someone in need of help, so he helped. It didn't seem so important but it clearly was to Missandei.

It was obvious she cared deeply for the man as Orin nodded. "I hope he's on his feet soon. As well as Ser Barristan."

"So do I," Missandei agreed. "Thank you again Lord Stark."

"Orin's fine." He hadn't earned that title. "I'm not actually a lord of anything. Or a Stark to be honest."

She seemed confused but Missandei nodded nevertheless. With nothing more to say, she smiled one last time before taking her leave. It was good to see that one of the queen's closest confidantes was kind hearted like Missandei.

Orin watched the retreating form of the woman before his eyes widened and he called out towards her.

"Apologies My Lady," Orin spoke. Meeting her halfway through the hall, Orin was unsure how to begin. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

Orin was glad at her openness. "It's about the queen."

* * *

The constant knot in her stomach annoyed her as Dany stood impatiently. Her closest friend and much needed advisor Missandei stood nearby staring at her sympathetically. Her friend's look only reminded her of the chaos that was enveloping the city just below them. All the power in the world, and Dany had no clue what to do with it.

"What will you do," Missandei asked slowly.

Sighing in frustration, Dany paced back and forth. "The easiest choice is to have them all killed."

It was easy to lose count on how many horrors so many in Meereen had inflicted on others. Even past the city, or Slavers Bay, all of Essos, and even Westeros, thousands preyed on the innocent and never went unpunished. The world was built on horrors and cruelty and it seemed like it would continue to do so.

"Ser Barristan fought against that until the morning he was attacked. Daario Naharis thinks otherwise." Dany hated that in the back of her mind, a third voice spoke. "And Orin Stark probably believes that with every waking moment, I turn into my father with my choices."

It felt ridiculous to even acknowledge the man's opinion during such a crucial time, but Dany couldn't help but do it. His condescending nature must have finally got to her to even consider his advice.

Looking back at her Handmaiden, Dany noticed the peculiar look. "What is it?"

"Nothing your grace." Missandei saw the need in her queen's face as she relented. "Apologies, I just didn't know you began listening to Lord Stark's counsel."

"I haven't," Dany pressed. Regardless of he was right or wrong, she would not go seeking out his help when she knew she could do this. "I won't."

"I see."

Dany's ears caught something as she eyed Missandei knowingly. "Did something happen?"

Surprised how quickly her queen caught on, Missandei nodded. "I met with him."

"And?

"And he does not think you are like your father."

The words started her but Dany refused to show it. "He said this?"

Missandei nodded. "He said had you been, he'd be dead."

It felt ridiculous to smile, but Dany almost did. Under most circumstances, Orin Stark probably should have been dead. He refused to call her queen, he talked down to her in front of her people, and a few days ago raised a weapon at one of her advisors. The safest thing to do would be to kill him, but Dany didn't want to. She needed Orin Stark alive for some reason she just wished she knew what for.

"He doesn't understand what the masters are," Dany remembered. As righteous as the man may be, he didn't know what it meant to be a slave. "But you do. You know what they are and you know who suffers if I fail. So tell me, what should I do?"

It was a tremendous question to put on her friend, but she had no choice. Dany trusted Missandei more then anyone in this world, and she needed her advice in the most crucial time.

"I do not know," Missandei admitted, much to the disappointment of Dany. "But what I do know is that I've seen you accomplish things no one has ever thought possible. You see a way that no one else could. You're asking me when it is you who knows the only solution."

Dany wished it were more simple, but knew that what she wanted to achieve would never be that. Her vision for the world would be difficult; the most difficult venture throughout history, and in order to achieve it, sacrifices would have to be made. If it were for the good of her people, Dany would do it, regardless if it ruined her happiness.


	28. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Ever since the queens Handmaiden had visited him, Orin hadn't seen another person. It had been a few days, but he thought it would be best to stay hidden. Locked away in his room, he could not do anything that might cost him his life. His emotions had gotten out of hand on far too many occasions, and it could have ended poorly for him because of it.

Still, he had spoken to Missandei at length about the queen, and now no longer feared for his safety. If what the girl said was true, then Orin had nothing to worry about. Daenerys wasn't a conqueror, but a liberator, who only wanted to do what was best.

Even if her best meant killing innocent men.

It was a gray area no doubt, and one Orin knew well, but it was easy to tip the scale. One terrible act led to another, and in time, cruelty was all that was left. He hoped that the belief from Ser Barristan and Missandei, truly good people, would be enough to help the queen.

Turning on his side, Orin sighed in frustration. Days had gone by far too slowly since he'd last seen the sun, and the feeling of suffocation was starting to get to him. Grabbing his sword and a flask of ale, Orin rose, intending to go for a walk.

Best he knew guard duty on his whereabouts had ended but he wasn't sure. Carefully opening the door, Orin's eyes widened in surprise as he was met once more with the shy smile of Missandei.

"Apologies My Lady," Orin said quickly. "I was not expecting you."

Missandei nodded in understanding. "Forgive the intrusion, but the queen has sent for you."

Surprised, Orin nodded slowly. "Do I have a choice?"

"I'm afraid not."

He figured as much. "Well we shouldn't keep her waiting then."

Together the two headed towards the queen's small council chambers. Night had come over the city as well as for the occupants in the pyramid. The usual long line of citizens seeking an audience with the queen was long gone, and hardly anyone walked the halls of the great structure. Only a few unsullied stood on patrol, unmoving, almost like statues.

Orin wondered if he'd ever get used to their attitude. Never in his life had he seen soldiers so attentive before. The words loyal or efficient hardly seemed appropriate to their nature. They went well above beyond to follow out orders and Orin imagined if Daenerys ever truly attacked Westeros with them, there wouldn't be an army that could stand a chance.

Missandei, who seemed just as loyal, just without the sheer brutality the unsullied possessed, hadn't said anything during their short walk to where the queen was. Orin suspected she thought she had said too much during their conversation and hoped that wasn't the case.

In truth their talk shed light onto who the queen actually was, and it helped Orin very much. Understanding a person was the best way of working with them, even your enemies, which Orin now believed Daenerys was not.

"Your grace," Missandei said, as the two entered the room.

The queen sat peacefully at the table as she smiled at her Handmaiden. "Leave us."

Orin mumbled a quick thank you to Missandei as she left before turning to the queen. He was a bit muffled at the late night request and wondered how to go about it. Last time they saw each other, it hadn't ended on the best of terms.

"You may sit," Dany offered.

It sounded more like a command but Orin relented. The usual bright sun shining through the open windows of the room was gone, replaced by a few candles sitting atop the table they sat at. Doing his best to remain calm, Orin couldn't help but look up and meet the queen's eyes.

Her gaze scared him momentarily, as he thought of another. Arianne used to look at him with the same powerful stare, and each time it unnerved him. Of course Arianne had different intentions when she eyed him rather then when the queen did.

"Do you carry your sword everywhere?" Dany asked, smiling lightly.

"Most of the time yes."

"Even around me?" Dany asked. Looking around at the empty room, she frowned. "I don't think I'd pose much of a threat."

Orin assumed the queen could be very threatening when she wanted to be. "I was going for a walk when Missandei found me."

"And you need your sword?"

After what happened to Ser Barristan, Orin very much believed he did. "The streets aren't safe last I remember."

The alley incident still haunted both of them, but unlike Orin who dwelled on it, Dany had moved forward to make sure it'd never happen again.

"The streets will no longer be an issue I hope," Dany explained. She saw the confusion on his face as she explained. "I freed the former masters."

"Truly?"

For the past few days, Orin has assumed the queen had fed all the men to her dragons as punishment. After the first had died, it wasn't out of the question to believe that the rest would soon follow. Yet here she was telling him otherwise.

"I cannot find peace in Meereen if I kill men by the dozens," Dany announced. It was enough reason to drop it, but Dany elaborated to a greater extent. "Ser Barristan is my friend and he was nearly murdered by the men responsible for the chaos ensuing in my city. I had a choice, a difficult one, but as queen it was mine to make. Do you understand?"

The difficulty of ruling over a city would never be something Orin understood. Yet making a difficult choice was very relatable to him as he made several during the past year. Each one felt impossible at the time and each one he questioned after making it. There were no easy answers, only harder choices, and the queen chose what she thought best.

Orin disagreed with it, but understood why she did it. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I don't know."

Her blunt honesty left both a bit speechless.

Orin wanted to press the matter but saw the confusion in the queen's eyes. Whatever intentions she had when she summoned him, admitting that truth wasn't part of it.

"And Ser Barristan?"

"He's woken," Dany smiled gratefully.

Orin had heard as much but had yet to see the man. He wanted to give him enough time to rest before visiting.

"That's good to hear."

"He'll never fight the same way, but he's alive, and right now that's all that concerns me."

Orin assumed as much. "So what now? I'm sure not all your advisors agree with your decision."

"The wonderful thing about being queen is that my decision is final." Her words were stern and true. "I'm sure many people would want me to kill all the masters and be done with it."

 _Many meaning Daario Naharis._ Orin thought.

He had not doubt that the former slaves wished to see their former masters heads on spikes, but Orin wasn't worried about their voice influencing Daenerys. They did not share the queen's bed at night or counsel her on a daily basis.

"It's simple to assume everyone's your enemy. Makes it that much easier on knowing who to kill, but I promise you, that's not the way."

"Then what is?" Dany asked.

"You freed thousands from slavery. You liberated cities that treated their people like animals. You showed the world a choice that they never thought possible. You didn't do it through cruelty, and you didn't do it with wealth. Do not abandon all the good you've done to get here. If you decide to kill men without proper justification, then you lose everything.

"You want to be better then your father? You want to show the world that you're their best chance at a better life? Prove it by being unlike anything they've ever seen before. Be different then the terrible people who left the world as it is."

It was impossible to ask so much from one person, but if someone had it in them to do so much good in such little time, Orin imagined Daenerys would be the one. He'd misjudged her the moment he laid eyes on her, and he hoped she continued to prove him wrong.

Dany for her part tried not to seem so shocked by his words. It was very clear now that what Missandei and Orin had discussed days ago had been her. After their last meeting she expected the son of Brandon Stark to want her dead even more then he did before. Yet apparently that wasn't the case…for now.

"So," Orin began, a bit curious as to how everything had been solved. "How did you manage to make the streets safe again? If they truly are."

"Marriage," Dany answered simply.

The bluntness caught Orin off guard. "Marriage?"

"To form a bond with the Meereenese people, I've decided to marry one."

Her answer was very diplomatic which made it very simple to Orin. Whoever she married, she had no intention on ever loving, at least now at the start. Most arranged marriages hardly ever started with love. How rare was it that two strangers met and knew they were destined to be together?

It was a great sacrifice Dany was making and Orin couldn't help but admire it. Putting your own happiness aside for others was what good rulers did. His mother had done the very same by choosing to devote her entire life to him, instead of finding another husband. Yet unlike his mother, Orin was sure Dany felt hesitant on the decision.

"That's…"Orin began, unsure what to say. His knowledge to marriage extended as far as his knowledge to high Valyrian. "A wise choice to make."

"A wise choice?" Dany repeated. She eyed the uncomfortable state of her guest and laughed. "You don't seem so sure."

"I've never been promised to someone," Orin explained. "So I cannot relate."

"As heir to your family, didn't your mother ever arrange any prospects?"

His mother had tried and failed. "None that stuck."

Dany smirked a little. "Some people aren't so lucky to have many choices."

"Yes well the choices were never fond of me," Orin admitted. It was the first time he'd ever said that to anyone. "Growing up my mother asked plenty of Lords for their daughters hand in marriage and each time I met them they refused."

Her smile gone, Dany spoke softly for him to continue. "Why?"

"I was a bastard."

The status had never bothered him in his life in Dorne. Everyone knew how the Dornish treated bastards, unlike the rest of Westeros. Yet the moment Orin's mother had offered his hand in marriage to other families outside of Dorne, the families almost laughed. The heir to house Dayne, a bastard boy, who could only live his life inside Dorne without being rejected. Orin didn't want a Dornish family to settle for him because it was okay, and he hated the look the Lords and Ladies gave him from outside their kingdom. To the outside world he was repulsive, and on the inside he was acceptable.

"Lords and Ladies did not see fit for their daughters to marry me," Orin continued, unsure why he continued to talk. Not even his mother had known how he truly felt about his status. "In Dorne it was considered okay, but it wasn't to me. I understand that many people have to settle, and I mean no disrespect to your situation, but I wanted more then that. I wanted a choice. And I still do."

"Not many are given a choice," Dany answered quietly.

"I'm sorry." Orin realized that she must have felt like she had no choice. "I'm sure you much rather marry for love."

Smiling again, Dany laughed lightly. "Love? You would assume that being queen meant I got to choose, but unfortunately that's not the case."

"If it's any consolation, I think what you're doing is very admirable."

"It's not," Dany admitted. She noticed his serious look before she smiled once more. "But thank you."


	29. Chapter 28

**riley1506106: Orin will continue to always speak his mind and be frank with Daenerys, just not insult her like he did during their first meeting. He'll still test her patience with the way he speaks, but he understands what kind of person she is now as well. It's a fine line to juggle because you want tension, yet you also want progression, and it also has to be believable in the fact that Dany won't take anymore shit from him hahaha. So hopefully I'm achieving that. And of course, thank you for the review!**

 **Hail King Cerion: Thank you very much, and I'm glad you're enjoying their interactions. It's hard to find the right words for both these characters because I really want to make their scenes together work. So I'm very glad to read this review. Hopefully I continue to make it work.**

* * *

Chapter 28

The mood around the city had vastly improved after the announcement Daenerys was to wed Hizdahr zo Loraq. There was no specific date as to when the marriage would consummate, but for now, the news was enough to settle the citizens. It'd been a difficult few weeks for them, but now they were united for one purpose.

Adding to the good news for the people of Meereen, the queen had also allowed the traditional fighting pits to be re opened. Both the former masters and slaves seemed pleased at the news.

Orin for the most part stayed mostly to himself after his talk with the queen. She'd been very busy with her responsibilities as ruler and solely focused on that. Other then Missandei, who was always by the queen's side during that time, Orin had literally no one to talk to.

With Ser Barristan still bed ridden, Orin felt no one in the pyramid could relate to him. The distinguished knight was someone who could give valuable information on Orin's family, but couldn't at the moment. Now he was alone, surrounded by unsullied soldiers who didn't talk, and second sons who Orin had no mood to talk to.

So far away from home, surrounded by strangers, and nothing to do, Orin thought of the one thing he could always turn too.

Training.

That's where he found himself the morning he woke. It was either having to spend another day in his bed, or to train, and Orin had enough rest. His body felt terrific for the first time in long while and he took advantage of it.

Outside under the warm sun, Orin stood facing off against a sparring dummy, as he held Dawn in his hands. He hadn't used a dummy since he was a child, but thought against asking someone for help.

Gripping the hilt, Orin swung the blade hard, taking the head of the dummy clean off. Surprised at the result, Orin looked down at the sword and stared. The blade really was sharp like the stories had said. It looked like any old blade, except for the color of course, but he'd never known a sword that hardly needed sharpening.

He wondered if his uncle, Ser Arthur Dayne, ever sat around sharpening his blade mindlessly. Some knights, and not the fancy ones strutting around Kings Landing who'd never seen a battle before, had a connection with their sword. It was the one thing that men depended on most to survive during a fight.

Orin was sure his uncle held great pride for this sword, as did he, but unlike his uncle, Orin still felt he hadn't earned it. He'd already killed a few men with it, but still it felt wrong. One day perhaps he'd finally feel comfortable holding it, like his uncle.

Looking back towards the dummy, Orin's eyes landed on the weapons rack behind it. A few rusted swords remained hanging with no one in sight to use them. Remembering the old stories of his uncle, he made his way over.

All the used swords looked the same as Orin used his free hand to hover over them. The sight of his finger's missing annoyed him as his hand grasped the sharpest one he saw. Pulling upwards, his fingers almost dropped the blade at the sudden movement.

He'd always wanted to be able to use two swords. Apparently his uncle had on occasion and had been near unstoppable to defeat. Lewin had stressed that it was a forgotten practice, and one Orin would never learn, and for a long time he accepted it.

Yet there was no one around to scold him, so here he was.

Gripping Dawn tight, Orin readied his other hand and lifted the other sword. Within seconds his newest sword dropped to the floor. Cursing at his misfortune, he quickly picked it up.

Again he gripped both swords and held them high. His three fingers held the sword tight as he turned towards the headless dummy. Quickly taking a step forward, Orin swung Dawn, connecting with the dummy before spinning halfway and swinging the other sword towards it. The blade connected but on impact fell from his hands.

The sharp movement pained his hand as he sighed in frustration. His fingers were basically useless as he eyed the fallen sword. It shouldn't have annoyed Orin, knowing he still had his dominant hand. Gods forbid, he was lucky he didn't end up like Jaime Lannister.

Yet it still bothered him.

Refusing to quit, Orin bent down slowly as he picked up the sword once more. Maybe the fault was swinging at an actual target. The first thing he learned when he was younger was to just get comfortable swinging the sword. Afterwards, he moved towards a dummy and then a person.

It was steps, and right now, Orin was ignoring the first one.

Turning his back to the dummy, Orin stared towards nothing as he held the swords high and ready. Quickly he swung at the air, relishing the fact that neither sword toppled to the ground. Stepping back, he spun Dawn in his hand, deflecting a would be attack as he lowered his knee and spun his other sword towards the make shift attacker.

The grip felt off, but the sword remained as Orin rose. It felt different to everything he was custom to, but he had a taste, and now wanted it.

For the next hour or so all he did was swing at nothing with both swords. He failed many times, and after each time, he failed again, but bit-by-bit the sword began to remain in his hands. His moves were sloppy, his foot stance was wrong, and he would have been dead a hundred times over. Yet as he swung one last time at nothing, Orin had a small smile behind his dirty face.

* * *

"Sitting through the great games is enough torment."

Dany stood impatiently atop her balcony looking over the great city. She wished she could remain standing instead of sitting through a torturous afternoon with Hizdahr as they watched men butcher each other for sport. She'd given the people what they wanted, and now she had to endure it as well.

Dany had hoped giving the Meereenese what they want would be enough, but as Hizdahr now explained, it was tradition for her to visit the lower pits before the great games. Apparently honoring the men with her presence was custom to the pits.

"Your queen," Daario announced behind her. Turning, she spotted the captain of the second sons standing over her intended. "You can choose not to go."

"It's tradition," Hizdahr argued.

"The queen decides what is and what isn't tradition," Daario pressed.

Dany appreciated the aid from her lover but shook her head. "He's right. It's tradition for the city, and I will follow it best I can."

"Thank you your grace."

Dany ignored the man's smile as she turned to Daario. "Will you be joining us?"

"Probably best I stay with Missandei," Daario explained. "I still have a few things I need to check in with my second sons about patrol now that Greyworm is bed ridden. I'll try and hurry if you need me there."

"The queen will be protected," Hizdahr offered.

"By you?" Dany asked innocently. The look on the man's face was enough to satisfy Dany as she turned to her advisor. "I'll be fine."

The sound of footsteps approaching had Dany's attention as she watched Missandei and Orin enter the room. She's almost forgotten that her northern guest had requested a meeting with her today. It'd been a stressful two weeks and her mind hadn't been as keen as it usually was.

Eyeing the man, Dany's eyes widened at his current state. Dirt and sweat covered most of his body as her mind began to wonder if another attack had happened.

"Is everything all right?"

Looking down at himself, Orin rubbed his head shyly. "I probably should have washed."

"Yes that's quite the smell," Hizdahr mumbled.

Dany wanted to glare at the man but could only offer Orin a small smile. "It's fine."

"Get in a scrap?" Daario asked, a bit curious.

"Training."

His answer was short and simple, but Dany heard the undertone. She'd half to be daft not to notice the tension between the two men. For whatever reason both men wanted the other dead, and Dany could only wonder why.

"Perhaps you'd like to enlist in the great games," Hizdahr offered. The others turned to his curious stare. "It'd be very unique to have a Westerosi knight fight."

"No!"

The room was silent at Dany's sudden outburst. All eyes turned to her, as she remained silent. She could see their confusion but did her best to ignore it. For whatever reason, she would not have the heir to the north die in some pit for the amusement of others. Whether or not Orin Stark supported her claim, his death would not come from the fighting pits.

Looking at each person, Dany sternly spoke. "Please give us the room."

Her authority was clearly heard as everyone left without another word. It was good that no one questioned her, fearing that if they had she might snap.

Now alone, she turned to Orin expectantly.

"You asked to see me?" Dany asked, no emotion in her voice.

"Your off to the pits today?" Orin asked, eyeing the retreating forms of the others. "Your soon to be husband seems happy enough."

"Don't call him that," Dany ordered. Her bite startled him as her face softened. "I apologize. It's been very stressful few days."

"To be expected," Orin sympathized, as he sat down. "I imagine watching men kill each other won't be much fun."

Dany's eyes hardened at his tone.

"I know you don't agree with it," Orin continued, seeing the anger in her eyes. "Hopefully with time the city will disregard the tradition under your rule."

"I do not plan on staying in Meereen forever."

It was the first time the two had mentioned Westeros since their first conversation. Dany knew that the man understood she'd eventually turn her eye west, but didn't know his feelings towards it now. At first, it was clear he wanted nothing to do with a Targaryen on the throne, but things had changed between the two. The bit of tension was still there, but they had come to an understanding for the most part. Dany didn't need Orin Stark's support, but she would be grateful for it.

"How can I help you?"

Remembering why he'd come, Orin straightened. "I'd like to leave."

His words startled her as she too soon sat down. "Leave?"

"I've been in Essos for too long," Orin tried to explain. "I need to go home."

"Home?" Dany repeated. She knew little of Orin Stark's life, but knew there wasn't anything to go home to. "And where would that be exactly?"

Shrugging his shoulders was all Orin could do. "I don't know. But I can't avenge my family from here."

"So you wish to return home and kill everyone who's hurt you alone, which from my understanding is quite a lot. Forgive me but that doesn't sound like a good idea."

"It's not," Orin agreed. He looked at her expectantly. "Do you have a better one?"

"Stay."

The two sat frozen staring at each other after her answer. One word held so much meaning for the both of them as they stared down one another. For the first time since they'd met, Dany could finally see him. She saw past his name, past his scars, and past whatever tension they held between them. She wanted him here, and she wanted his help.

"Stay?" Orin repeated.

"Stay here, and when the time comes I promise you we will bring justice to those who have wronged us. You have my word."

The two shared a common enemy and Dany hoped that would be enough to sway him.

"Why would you help me?" Orin asked.

Smiling softly as his confusion, Dany leaned forward. "You are not my enemy. And perhaps helping you get justice for your mother will undo some of the horrors my family inflicted on yours. I cannot bring them back, but I can see the ones responsible pay. Swear me your sword Orin Stark, and I promise we will avenge Ashara Dayne together."


	30. Chapter 29

**Thanks for the kind reviews, glad your enjoying the story! Not sure how everyone's gonna feel about this chapter but lets hope it's mostly positive!  
**

* * *

Chapter 29

The queen had long been gone giving Orin ample time to decide what to do with her offer. On the outside it seemed too good to pass up. Support her claim to the throne and watch as her army destroyed all those who wronged him. It'd take time but eventually he imagined the queen would prevail. It was the logical choice.

Yet as he stood inside the empty throne room gazing upon the throne on which Daenerys sat, Orin struggled with what to do. There were many things swaying him towards staying, but the few that stopped him were the ones that scared him most.

The most obvious problem with supporting her claim was her name alone. If the queen were to take Kings Landing with a Stark by her side, Orin imagined the northern lords would revolt. The Starks and their bannermen lost many men during Roberts Rebellion and to see a Stark by a Targaryen side would come across as an insult. That was if the northern lords even believed his claim.

Of course siding with a Targaryen in the first place would feel like an insult to his father's name. Orin didn't know the man, so he wouldn't stand here pretending that he did, but he understood his sacrifice and what it meant. If he sided with the family who was responsible, then his sacrifice meant nothing.

Yet as many things stopped him from saying yes, the most difficult one was one Orin never expected to have. Here alone, in the solace of the magnificent throne room, he could admit it to himself.

He had improper feelings for the queen.

Even thinking of it, Orin wanted to chastise himself. Taking away their names alone, and terrible family history, the mere idea was laughable at best. Here he was, a continent away from his home, never once been with a woman, and he was feeling things for a queen. He felt like a commoner watching a jousting tournament hoping to one day enlist.

Knights jousted, Lords married Ladies, and kings belonged with queens. There were rules to follow, and if Daenerys had to abide by them, so did everyone else. Orin understood well how social standards worked, and knew he wasn't above them. Whether or not his feelings were real, even if he knew they were, nothing but misery would come of it.

Their family history aside, Orin could never act on it. She was to be married, and even then, her path was far greater then Orin's ever would be. Targaryen or not, he saw what kind of person she was and knew Ser Barristan had been right. Daenerys wasn't perfect, but no one was. She'd be the queen of Westeros one day, and he'd return to wherever it was he belonged.

It was cruel to find the one person he'd like to take a chance on just to know it'd never work. Thankfully, he still had time to leave before it got worse. As much as he wanted to stay and help, he knew he could never handle it. Every moment that past it'd get worse and he respected himself too much to put himself through that misery.

It was almost easier leaving. He'd never know the rejection that would come from it.

Sighing, Orin gave one last look at the throne before walking away.

* * *

"Stark!"

 _Knock knock knock!_

"Stark!"

 _Knock Knock Knock!_

Opening his eyes slowly, Orin looked around his room in a daze before resting his eyes on the door. It shook violently from the other side as he got up. The voice, belonging to Daario, called out once more as he opened it.

He was met with the smiling face of the sell sword. "Sleeping?"

"Was," Orin yawned. Rubbing his eye, he wondered what the visit was for. "Something wrong?"

"Not really," Daario admitted. He stepped into the room without invitation and eyed the surroundings. Spotting a bag half packed, he turned to him. "Packing?"

"Yes before."

Orin was in no mood but Daario continued. "Off somewhere?"

Knowing he wouldn't leave without force, Orin relented. "Back to Westeros."

"Ah." Curious, Orin imagined that man would be happy at the news. "I hear our queen offered you a different choice."

It shouldn't have been a surprise that her lover knew. "She did."

"And you're going to refuse her?"

"Yes well I've said it many times before, unlike you, she's not my queen."

Daario smiled gently as he turned to Orin's cot. Pointing towards it, Orin nodded, giving the man leave to sit. To his surprise, the sell sword got comfortable as he leaned his head back against the wall eyeing him.

"I don't believe you know the story of how I came into Queen Daenerys services?" Daario mumbled.

"Haven't had the pleasure."

Smiling, the man continued. "She had offered the second sons a deal that was quite frankly too good to pass up, but my associates couldn't see past her stature. All they saw was an entitled girl with tits. So one night, those associates sent me to kill her, but I refused. Instead I killed them and gave Daenerys their heads as a gift."

Orin wasn't surprised to hear a sell sword turning on his men for his own purposes. "What's the point?"

"I killed men I bled with because they were too stupid to see past her name and image," Daario explained. "She's more then what you see, and I knew it the moment I met her. And you may try and deny it, but you see it too."

Orin did see it, but refused to acknowledge it now.

"You wanted me dead," Orin stated.

"I did," Daario confirmed. Rising from the bed, he approached Orin. "Quite frankly I still do. Dead men are easy to predict."

"You think I'm unpredictable?"

Daario shrugged. "I've trusted my instincts all my life, and they've kept me alive thus far. I see a Stark glaring down a Targaryen, and it gets me thinking. Perhaps one day you realize what you originally thought she was and decide to kill her? Its safer for her if you're dead."

All this talk of death should have had Orin worried, but he knew Daario wasn't here to kill him, "Yet you won't do it."

"Queen forbade it," Daario smirked, heading back out the door. "I don't know what reasons you have for going home, but the queen wants you here, against my better judgment. But I'll always do as she commands, so if she sees something in you, I have to at least try and convince you to stay."

Smiling for the first time, Orin's brow rose. "If you plan to sway someone, don't mention how much you want them dead."

"Honesty Orin Stark," Daario smiled back from the door. "Goes a long way."

* * *

Orin's talk with Daario had bothered him ever since the sell sword had left. As much as the man may have wanted him dead, he still tried to persuade Orin into staying, all because the queen wanted. The more obvious matter, the one Orin was trying his best to ignore, was that for whatever reason, the queen needed him in Meereen.

He didn't believe her when she said she wanted to undo some of the damage her family had caused. She was genuine no doubt, anyone could see that, but she wouldn't risk having a Stark under her nose if it didn't best suit her interests. So to see one of her closest advisors, who openly wanted him dead, try and sway him into staying, it said much more then what the queen was letting on.

Her end goal could have been a million things but Orin would never figure out the truth locked away in his room. Looking up from his cot, he eyed his bag. Everything he had and had been given was ready and waiting. All he had to do was get up and leave.

 _Honesty Orin Stark._ Daario had said.

Sighing in frustration, Orin rose from his bed and quickly made his way out the door. He had to know the truth before he left, regardless of what it did to him.

Walking the familiar halls, Orin wasn't even sure if the queen had yet to return from her visit to the fighting pits. It still shocked him that people chose to spend their free time watching as men battled each other to the death. It was barbaric, but again, this wasn't Westeros. Most of the customs here confused him.

Hoping to spot Missandei roaming the pyramid, Orin found the next best thing. Daario stood inside the throne room talking to a few of his men before he spotted him. Quickly giving out orders, he turned to him with his usual smile.

"No bag," Daario noticed. "Will I be seeing more of you?"

"Doubtful," Orin said truthfully. He noticed the lack of people inside the room. "Is the queen not back?"

Orin's question must have amused him. "She's back. And with a new friend."

"Friend?"

"Come on," Daario motioned. "I believe you may know who he is."

Unsure where the man was going with this, Orin reluctantly followed. He wondered if the man was jesting as he walked alongside him. Who could the queen possibly have met that Orin would know? This whole continent was foreign to him, as were the people.

Walking again into the room Orin last saw the queen; his eyes fell immediately onto her guest. He didn't even notice the look Dany gave both him and Daario as they entered, solely focusing on a man he'd never forget.

Whether it was Essos or Westeros, no man could ever mistake the most famous Dwarf in all the lands. Looking down in shock, the man unaware of the attention behind him soon turned, and matched the shock Orin had on his face.

"Tyrion Lannister," Orin whispered.

"Ashara Dayne's bastard?" Was all he got as a response.

Dany noticed the looks. "Do you know each other?"

"Yes."

"Hardly."

Rolling her eyes, Dany turned to Tyrion. "Which is it?"

Tyrion turned to the queen sheepishly. "We've met, but I'd hardly say I know the boy."

"I thought you'd be dead," Orin called out, remembering the imps last whereabouts. "Heard you killed the king."

Eyes hard, Tyrion stared him down. "Funny, heard you did the same."

Orin noticed the queen's confused stare towards him but ignored it. "I didn't kill your nephew."

"Shame," Tyrion mumbled. "I would have thanked you for it."

"Daario can you give us the room."

Nodding at his queen's command, the man left, leaving the three alone. It was curious to see, a Lion, a Dragon, and a Wolf, all together at once. Even more curious was that laws of succession dictated that each as of now was head of their great house.

"Why are you in Essos?" Orin asked finally.

"I could ask the same of you," Tyrion rebuffed. Turning back to the queen, he smiled. "I didn't realize you had the support of House Dayne."

"She doesn't."

The words cut hard as both Orin and Dany stared down one another. He didn't mean it to come out so harshly, but from the disappointment in the queen's face, he knew it had. She must have thought he was foolish for turning down her proposal.

"Ah, so you're a prisoner," Tyrion summarized. "Forgive me but you don't look like a prisoner."

"Lord Stark is my guest," Dany said sternly. There was no emotion in her voice. "For however brief that may be."

Orin heard the undertone.

"Lord Stark?"

Eyes wide, Orin turned to Tyrion, realizing the information the queen had accidently slipped. It was no secret here in Essos of who he truly was, seeing as how the dangers of his name were minimal at best. Yet in Westeros, his name carried a lot of weight, especially in the hands of a Lannister.

"You don't know?" Dany asked. Turning towards Orin, her brow rose. "Who else doesn't know?"

"Everyone," Orin admitted. He gestured to Tyrion. "I did not think it would be best if his family knew who I was when I was in Kings Landing."

"Who exactly?" Tyrion pressed. He hated the feeling of confusion as he eyed the two.

Putting the man out of his misery, Orin answered. "My true name is Orin Stark. I'm Brandon Starks son."

* * *

 **So cats out of the bag, yes Orin has feelings for the queen. It's a very confusing thing for him because he's never felt things like this before. He doesn't love her, but he accepts that he's drawn to her. And obviously not just physically because then he'd have felt that the moment he met her, like all men do in the show. Yet he's slowly begun to see her for who she is, good and bad, through her actions. Hopefully everyone likes the revelation!**


	31. Chapter 30

**GM12: Thank you for the great review, I'm glad Orin has been a highlight for you as is his development. Also, expect a different story arc for season 7. Of course there will be some similarities, but I will be changing quite a bit I imagine.**

 **Jgs237: Thank you, and hopefully I can continue to keep it up!**

 **Sucuri: Glad you're enjoying there dynamic, but truthfully I wasn't expecting such a response from their relationship, though I'm glad for it!**

 **Silver crow: I can assure you, he will not become a loyal servant that follows every command like a robot. The root of their relationship is a constant back and forth that pushes the other to be better, and even though they aren't yelling at each other, they'll continue to play off the dynamic of budding heads. And of course, thank you for the kind review.**

 **CallMeRandom.: Thank you! Hopefully I wrote Tyrion well. He's very difficult to pin point.**

 **Viewing civilian: Thanks for the review and follow, and for the kind words.**

 **Vhb: Thank you for the review and as you asked, the next chapter!**

* * *

Chapter 30

It wasn't easy to shock Tyrion Lannister, but apparently Orin had said enough to confuse the man. His story was indeed very hard to believe, especially when you considered the ramifications of his true heritage. Still, Tyrion did his best to stay composed as the two sat alone facing one another.

The queen had left for some time, giving the two men time to discuss things. As many questions as either had, the only thing Orin cared for was what had happened in Kings Landing. More specifically, the whereabouts of Sansa.

"I wish I could help you," Tyrion offered, taking a much-needed sip of wine,

"I expected as much," Orin sighed in frustration. Like him, it seemed everyone in Westeros had no idea as to where Sansa had disappeared too. "As long as she's safe I suppose."

"She's probably safer then you and I."

Orin felt confused. "How do you mean?"

"A Lannister and Stark captives by a Targaryen," Tyrion mused. He smiled at the revelation. "We're responsible for her families collapse."

"I think everyone all had a part to play," Orin suggested. Mad King or not, every great house had played a role in Roberts Rebellion.

"I still can't fathom the idea of you being a Stark. My father thought he had the heir properly married to me, yet here you sit. He'd be very disappointed."

Orin cared little for Tywin Lannisters feelings. "Sorry to disappoint him. I'm sure he'll come to know soon enough."

"That might be harder then you think," Tyrion said quietly. He refused to look at Orin as he spoke. "He's dead."

It was Orin's turn to be shocked as he eyed the man carefully. Tywin Lannister hadn't killed his mother directly, but was the man behind the Lannister forces. He was the true power in Kings Landing and now he was gone. It almost didn't feel real for a moment, knowing he hadn't seen him die like Joffrey.

"How?" Orin whispered.

Taking another large sip, Tyrion spoke without remorse. "I killed him."

One shocking thing after the next was Tyrion's plan it seemed. "Why?"

"It's a long story," Tyrion sighed. It was clear he had no plans to discuss it any further. "But I don't need to explain it to you. You've suffered quite a lot from my fathers doing I imagine."

The horrific Red Wedding would always be a harsh reminder of Tywin Lannisters cruelty. "Yes, your father took much from me."

He didn't need to say her name for Tyrion to realize whom he spoke about. "I'm sorry for your loss. Your mother deserved better."

"She did," Orin agreed. He too had no plans to discuss his difficult past. Still his mother's death did raise a question. "How did you know? About my mother I mean? Apparently I was your accomplice because of it."

Tyrion smiled. "You don't know my sister very well. She's very resourceful. So resourceful that she learned every dirty little secret there was just to find the person responsible for her son's murder. It didn't take long for word to reach Kings Landing that your mother died at the hands of Lannister soldiers."

"I imagine Starfall got word," Orin mused sadly. The people in the castle deserved the truth, and it should have come from him, not some raven informing them of their Ladies passing. "I should thank you though, for killing you father."

"Many people wanted him dead," Tyrion jested. He didn't smile, knowing it was the truth.

"That doesn't explain how you escaped," Orin reminded, but remembered the defeated face of the man when his father's death was mentioned. "But I imagine that's also a long story."

"Yes well we both have long stories to tell," Tyrion nodded towards his hand knowingly. "Last we saw each other, you had more fingers, and a much more handsome face."

Orin's hand quickly went to the ugly scar on his cheek.

"Meaning no offence of course," Tyrion smiled, gesturing to his own face. "I have my own if you hadn't noticed."

His face red, Orin felt foolish for forgetting the scar on his cheek. He'd hardly looked at himself since he'd gotten to Meereen and imagined everyone thought he was some horrible beast. A fingerless scarred northerner with no manners or temperament. For a brief moment, Orin felt ashamed for even standing in the queen's presence.

 _A foul sight to see._ Orin thought.

Trying to forget his scars and the thought of the queen's disgust with him, Orin changed the subject. "Why are you here in Meereen meeting with the queen? I expected you dead, but never would I think to find you here."

"Well I never thought I'd see another Stark," Tyrion argued.

"Fair enough."

"A friend convinced me to seek her out." Tyrion offered no name as he continued. "He thought Daenerys was the best chance for Westeros. So being the curious man that I am, I figured why not meet with the dragon queen. See what all the fuss is about."

"And?"

"And I'm not dead so that's a good start."

His will to survive was very inspiring to Orin. Most men who lived through the traumas as Tyrion had wouldn't last very long, but the mere fact that he was a dwarf to boot spoke volumes on the man. Orin knew very little of him, but the fact that he survived in Kings Landing knowing the entire royal family despised him, and apparently wanted him dead, was hard to fathom.

Not even his uncle, Ned Stark, with his legacy and his men, and whatever good intentions he had, were strong enough to survive the treacherous city, but Tyrion Lannister had. If that wasn't incredibly surprising, Orin didn't know what would be.

"What about you?" Tyrion asked. "What's a former bastard, now supposed Stark, doing in Meereen?"

To explain the lead up of mistakes that got him here Orin would need another day, perhaps two, and far more wine. "It doesn't matter. I plan to leave very soon."

"Yes I noticed," Tyrion smiled lightly. "The queen seemed less then pleased."

Orin did not need a reminder of the disappointment the queen was feeling. "I don't know what she wants from me."

"I can think of many things," Tyrion suggested. Orin didn't have time to process the sly remark as Tyrion continued. "I am curious to know where you'd go? Cersei still believes you helped me kill my nephew. That doesn't bode well for your future in Westeros."

It'd been something Orin had contemplated for a long time after his decision to leave. It seemed impossible to find somewhere he could truly be safe in a continent so consumed by chaos. Thankfully, he did have some friends left in Westeros that would prove to be most helpful in keeping him alive.

"Prince Oberyn will keep me safe," Orin explained. He knew the Martells would take him in with open arms. "Him and Prince Doran have known me for a long time. They'll protect me."

The dark look that passed of Tyrion didn't go unnoticed.

"What is it?" For a moment, Orin's stomach dropped. "What happened?"

* * *

"You wish to advise me, go ahead, start."

Dany watched the small man shift awkwardly under her powerful gaze. She'd developed quite the gift for unsettling people from just a look, and to say it didn't please her would be a lie. Rulers had to know when to speak, and when not to, leaving only their eyes as a way of expression. Clearly her anger was being conveyed as Tyrion almost shrunk under her stare.

The problem was very simple. What to do with the stubborn northerner sitting peacefully in his room? It shouldn't have been a problem, but it carried on ever since he'd arrived in Meereen. She thought after some time, he'd see her for what she was, but apparently he was still too proud and stupid to call her queen. Even after offering her help in avenging his mother.

"What do I do with a man who refuses to acknowledge me as the rightful ruler of Westeros, which is where he lives I might add!"

"I don't know the boy well enough to understand what he's thinking," Tyrion offered.

"I know exactly what he's thinking!" Dany argued. It was the same thought every person in Westeros probably had. "I'm just the Mad Kings daughter."

It hurt her more then it should have to admit that. For a long time she cowered under her cruel brothers care, but after finally breaking free, she started to become the person she was meant to be. Part of that meant never caring what others thought of her. She refused to listen to their insults after taking so many all her life. She was stronger then that and for so long now, she'd been quite all right.

 _Let them sneer._ Dany would think.

Yet the moment her fathers name came up, all his crimes and cruelty fell on her. It wasn't right, but every person made the same assumption that she would be just like her father. It pained her that people could think she could be so cruel like the Mad King. Until recently she hadn't given it much thought, not until Ser Barristan told her the truth.

Then Orin Stark walked into her throne room with his judging eyes and the feeling crept in.

"I thought we'd moved past it," Dany whispered, mostly to herself. Noticing Tyrion's questioning glance, she sighed. "I thought with his help, I could secure the north."

"I don't think he wants the north," Tyrion pointed out. "But your right, keeping him on your side is better for you in the long run. Whether or not he accepts who he is, he's still a Stark, and that name has meaning. If one day the lords of the north decide Roose Bolton is not fit to rule, then Orin's name alone would give him dominion over the largest kingdom."

"So what should I do?" Dany asked.

"The better part of me is saying keep him here without choice."

"As a prisoner."

"It may seem that way but if you allow him to leave, then there's a chance you lose the only bargaining chip you have with the north."

Dany felt disgusted at the thought. "I will not trade a man for land that rightfully belongs under my rule. And I will not keep him prisoner here either."

"Then what were you hoping for?"

"I was hoping you would help me convince him to stay on his own terms."

"Forgive me your grace but this I cannot do," said Tyrion defeated. The only person who could do that was she. "I didn't convince armies to fight for me, nor slaves to revolt against their masters. As accomplished diplomat as I am, I think the breaker of chains would have a much easier time swaying him then I. Also, he isn't exactly too fond of me at the moment."

Dany hardly noticed the last statement. "And if I can't?"

She watched as her newest advisor stared off into the distance.

"Then you have a very difficult decision to make."

* * *

Orin had hoped after seeing Tyrion that the man would have some idea as to where Sansa would be, but nothing came of it except more heartache. All he could think of was the terrible way Oberyn died. He didn't blame the dwarf, but in the heat of the moment, couldn't stand to look at him either.

Doing his best to veer off on any thoughts of Oberyn's death, Orin thought of home. His intent was to travel back to Westeros and figure things out from there, but after seeing Tyrion; he'd hoped Sansa could fit back into those plans. He still remembered the promise he made to Robb and Catelyn Stark and planned on upholding it.

It felt strange knowing he'd be heading home soon with no clear direction on where to start looking, but he had no choice. Regardless of his promise, he couldn't stay in Meereen any longer.

The moment he denounced his intention towards fighting for the queen, he saw the disappointment in her eyes. He didn't think his feelings were so strong that he'd feel pain seeing that look, but he had. It was a terrible feeling and one he wished to never have again. He'd failed enough people he cared for in his life and was done doing it.

Yet as much as he needed to leave Meereen, how he'd do it would be a bit more complicated. With hardly any understanding of the city, and no gold to his name, finding passage back to Westeros wasn't exactly simple.

He felt foolish for even thinking of asking the queen for his help but it's where he found himself the next day he woke. Everything he had to his name was ready, except for his passage home.

Thankfully his request to see the queen hadn't been so formal to use the throne room, instead settling for her small council chambers. As foolish as he felt, asking for her help in front of all her advisors seemed worse, and was grateful for the small audience.

Directed by an unsullied, Orin stepped outside the balcony where Dany stood watching over the city. She hadn't turned, instead focusing on the place she ruled from above. Without knowing anything about her, name or past, here in this moment, standing there with the sun lightly upon her face, Orin had never seen a more beautiful sight.

Feeling there presence, Dany turned slightly, giving a simple nod to her guard before he left. Once more she turned away, staring back down at the city.

"Every time I stand here I'm reminded of the day Ser Barristan was almost killed." Her voice was thick of emotion as she spoke of her injured friend. "The two of us stood here, talking about my family, smiling and laughing, and all I can really remember was the way he lied on that table nearly dead. It pains me that a beautiful memory is tarnished by a horrid one."

"We don't get to choose what we forget," Orin said quietly.

How easy it would be for him to forget his mother's cold body in his arms if he could? He'd carry that memory with him until the day he died.

"You're leaving."

It wasn't a question. "I am."

The simplest answer held so many questions, but neither asked. Instead, they just accepted what he'd said and moved on.

"Lord Tyrion thinks I should keep you here," Dany explained. "Without your consent."

Orin expected as much. "I assumed."

"You don't seem troubled at the thought?"

Smiling, Orin remembered how he'd acted the first time they met. "Had it been the first time I met you, I'd assume I'd already be in chains."

"And now?" Her words were so quiet he almost didn't hear them.

"Now I know who you truly are."

Orin was glad that he stood to her right, hiding his scarred face as he stood forward looking out over the city. He could feel her eyes on him as he turned slightly. He expected to find her staring at him, but saw her eyes lower to where his damaged hand rested.

"Does it bother you?"

"Not anymore," Orin admitted. The pain had long been gone, only the memory haunting him. "Just sore on the eyes. Not the prettiest sight."

"No it's not," Dany agreed, smiling a little. Orin matched her look as he watched her tentatively rest her hand atop his. His face reddened at the contact but was grateful when the queen ignored it. "This is a reminder, just like this balcony. You can choose to remember it by thinking of the man who did this to you or by remembering the men you saved instead. I know which I choose."

Orin stared a bit speechless before he found his words. "I wish I could stay."

Dany nodded, removing her hand. "The freedom to make your own choice is one I fought for all of Slavers Bay. This is your choice."

It felt like the wrong choice, but Orin went with it anyways. "It is."

"Then how can I help?"


	32. Chapter 31

**Seraph: Most likely Lord of Starfall, but doubtful on Dorne. Don't forget, not all the Martells are gone….yet.**

 **Jgs237: I'll just keep him there and they'll live in Meereen happy and safe hahaha.**

 **Marvelmyra: Good catch, thanks, corrected that. Also sorry about Ashara, I was sad to see her gone too.**

 **Guest: Well he hasn't left yet so Dany still has some time lol.**

 **Ominous Olethros: Sorry for the cliffhanger, was originally going to have this chapter mixed with the last, but felt that they were better apart.**

 **Hail King Cerion: Exactly, bit by bit, not one grand gesture or one conversation, but every action he's seen her take since they first met. It's a slow but moving process.**

 **CallMeRandom: Sorry for the conflicted feelings hahaha.**

 **This chapter is where things really start to shift away from the current ark of the show. There will be similarities, but things will change, so hopefully it connects well enough.**

* * *

Chapter 31

"I knew you wanted to leave, but never expected you'd go through with it."

Orin smiled at Ser Barristan as the man lay resting. It'd been the first time since they'd seen each other since the attack and both were glad they had the moment to finally talk. Still suffering from his injuries, Orin thought the man looked a lot better then he had in a long time. It wasn't easy taking so many wounds at that age and getting back up.

Once more Orin was reminded of the will to live. It almost seemed everyone in this pyramid refused to die.

"I thought I came here to keep you company."

Strictly speaking, it was Orin who really needed the company. Everyone in the queen's party had left for the opening ceremony of the great games leaving Orin alone with nothing to do. He'd been offered to go, but refused immediately, not wanting to see the horrors that came within the pit. The queen had no choice, still trying to bridge the people of Meereen together, but Orin thankfully wasn't needed.

Still, Ser Barristan's questioning glace had Orin continuing the sensitive subject.

"I can't stay here any longer," Orin reasoned. "I belong in Westeros."

"As does the Queen," Barristan argued. He coughed lightly, his voice heavy. "You can't escape the inevitable Orin. She will turn to Westeros, sooner rather then later, and you'll be in the same spot. Her rule will be just, I can assure you."

"It's not about her ruling." If anyone would keep the truth hidden, Ser Barristan seemed like the best man. "I see what you see. What she's capable of. I haven't been with her long enough to know if she'll ever become her father, but she's better then any ruler I've ever known. With the right counsel, and you by her side, I imagine she'll be far greater then anyone else trying to sit upon that throne."

"So what are you running from?" Barristan asked quietly.

"Her."

The knight didn't seem shocked at the revelation as he sat staring intently. It was big enough for Orin to feel embarrassed at the thought but relaxed as the man smiled kindly at him.

"Do you think it will be easier leaving her now that you care?" Barristan asked.

"I don't know."

"She may never feel the same way, but believe me, running from her will not make it any easier."

It felt easier, never having to face her each day.

"Is it so important that you have to be with her in every sense?"

Orin shook his, almost violently. "Of course not."

"Then stay," Barristan smiled. He was glad at the assurance of the answer. "If you care enough about her, then help her. There are other ways of showing someone you care for them besides through the acts of marriage."

The words had Orin thinking of another knight who sacrificed his own happiness at the cost of serving someone. He remembered that day on the boat with Conin, how his friend spoke of his old life, and how serving his mother had been the perfect solace in his troubled life at the time.

Conin understood what it meant to love someone, he'd felt it for a time, and still he refused to love again, instead serving house Dayne. It would have seemed cruel from the unsuspecting eye, but time after time Conin insisted he'd been happy. Orin had believed him, knowing after so long of service, he'd become family.

Thinking long on it, Orin rose from his chair. "I won't take up anymore of your time."

Giving him one last smile, Orin made his way towards the door. He reached nearly halfway when he heard the man call out for him one last time. Turning slowly, he saw the knight eye him knowingly.

"Both your father and uncles we're honorable men. I see the same in you. If this is the last time I see you, I just wanted you to know."

 _BOOM!_

The loud crash had Orin tumbling to the floor unexpectedly as the pyramid shook. Raising his head towards the distressed knight, Orin eyes widened as another violent crash shook the room.

"What's happening!" Orin shouted.

The loud crashes continued to assault the pyramid and it's foundation as Orin tried to rise. The unsullied guards outside Ser Barristan's room quickly took off to inspect, leaving Orin and the knight wondering what the hell was happening.

"We're being attacked," Barristan nearly shouted. The man tried to rise from his bed, but was quickly held down by Orin. "Let go of me."

"You're in no condition to stand, let alone fight," Orin argued. His hand never left the man's shoulder, pressing harder to push him back down. "Please, stay here."

"The queen," Barristan whispered. His eyes frantic, he looked up. "You have to find her."

Drawing his sword, another crash had Orin nearly on the floor. "I will. Just promise me you'll stay here!"

Barristan nodded slowly as Orin spun and ran out the room. He hated leaving the man, but Barristan was right, he had to find the queen.

Sprinting down the halls, he passed countless unsullied running as well, spears in hand; ready to face whatever it was outside. The pyramid continued to shake uncontrollably at the assault as Orin did his best not to crash into anyone.

Remembering the path that took him outside, Orin wondered where he'd go next. The queen and everyone else were at the fighting pits, and he hadn't the slightest idea as to where that'd be. Meereen was a large city, and he expected the attack would cause hysteria making it even more difficult.

The light from outside was a welcome sight but for just the briefest moment as Orin raced out to see what was happening. He'd never seen such chaos before, as balls of flame smashed into every part of the city.

Below him, he could hear the screams and shouts of the people as buildings began to crumble from the impact of the assault. Looking upwards again as the source of it all, Orin's eyes got lost in the large amount of ships laying siege to the city from the bay.

Every few seconds that past a ball of flame would launch into the sky and soon destroy something on impact. The pyramid above him managed to stay standing, even as it took a number of hits from the attack.

Looking down at Dawn, Orin wondered what one sword could possibly do against an armada of ships. All it took was one flaming explosion and he'd be dead on impact. He couldn't stop them from attacking, but he could find the one person who could.

The streets were just as he expected as he raced through them trying to find the fighting pits. Everyone around him was running and screaming, trying to find safety as the places around them burned. It was horrible to see as he passed countless dead lying all over the streets.

Rounding a corner, Orin came upon a startling sight as he saw the familiar golden masked men attacking the citizens running in fear. There were over a dozen of them as they stabbed and mutilated the people who were busy running from their flaming homes.

Finding the queen was his purpose, but leaving innocents to die was not something he could live with. Hand tight around his sword, Orin charged into the small open district as a flaming rock smashed into a nearby building, killing a few of the men already.

Too busy in the mayhem, the Sons of the Harpy didn't realize he was upon them until it was too late. The first met his sword through the back as he pulled the blade out quickly to spin and kill the next one who'd noticed his presence.

The men were no match as Orin used everything he'd ever learned to cut them down. Fueled by his desire to live, he fought like he'd never have before. For the first time since he'd been given the sword, Dawn felt like an extension to his arm, bonding with it as he killed the men.

Hack.

Slash.

Repeat.

Soon only two men remained as the few Meereenese people left alive took the chance and ran to safety. Both harpies each held a short sword as they moved around him slowly. He couldn't see behind their masks, but from their hesitant strides, Orin knew they were scared.

He relished the thought as he charged forward, deflecting the first attack and using his elbow to smash the harpy's throat in. The first collapsed, leaving only one standing. This time waiting for the attack, Orin stood ready as the man swung.

A bit more skilled then his comrades, the harpy backed Orin up until he felt his back hit a wall. The attacks kept coming as the man's moves started to tire. Unsure where the next swing would hit, Orin met the man's sword mid attack, snapping the blade in half.

Wide eyes met his as Orin kicked out, hitting the knee of the man, as he crouched in pain. Looking up slowly, the harpy's head came clean off as Orin swung the blade.

They were dead, all of them, save for the one still trying to catch his breath on the floor. He lied a few feet away on the floor, holding his throat desperately. Orin would have finished him, but soon a patrol of unsullied raced into the open area, surrounding the man. A quick spear to the chest ended the last of the harpies, leaving no one alive.

Turning on him, the unsullied lowered their spears and eyed him. He didn't recognize any of them, but was glad they knew him.

"The queen," Orin called out. He hoped one spoke the same language. From the looks of their face he got his answer. Trying another approach, Orin walked closer. "Daenerys Targaryen. Daenerys?"

A quick nod had Orin grateful. Following their lead, he and the unsullied raced through the streets towards wherever their queen was.

* * *

After everything she'd been through, Dany had never felt more frightened in her life. All around her the city she ruled started to burn and crumble under the attacks. Regardless of her own well being, it was her people she truly felt scared for. Surrounded by her men, she was relatively safe, but the same couldn't be said for the countless people burning to death all around Meereen.

What had started out as a coordinated attack during the great games had become a full-fledged assault on the city. She didn't think any of them would make it out of the pit alive, but with Ser Jorah's timely help, and Drogon's return, they raced towards the pyramid for shelter.

Her oldest friend led the way as their group ran. Dany was too preoccupied with the assault and making sure Missandei was nearby to even think of Ser Jorah's appearance. Daario and Tyrion stood nearby as the unsullied around her formed a tight circle incasing all of them.

"We need to hurry," Jorah shouted over the explosions.

Dany could feel Missandei's shaking form as she pulled her dearest friend close for comfort. This would not be the way she died, or any of them. They'd all come so far for it to end like this.

"Come on," Daario hurried them along.

It was horrible to see all the bodies of the dead as they ran towards safety. Dany had sworn to protect them, to make sure things like this never happened, and she'd failed. Yet that failure only strengthened her resolve to see the men responsible pay.

Above the group, another smash into a nearby building had debris falling towards them, as the group scattered. Daario pushed Dany roughly to the ground as a large piece of rock collided where she had once stood. Looking frantically, she saw most of her people on the floor disorientated from the close explosion.

"Are you all right?" Daario mumbled, helping her to her feet.

Pulling away quickly, Dany raced towards Missandei who sat crouched on the floor. "Are you hurt?"

"My foot your grace," Missandei mumbled in pain.

Dany gently rested her hand atop it. "I'm going to get you help. I promise."

"Men closing in!" Daario shouted above her.

Lifting her eyes, Dany watched as dozens of men charged towards them with knives in their hands and golden masks covering their murderous faces. There were far too many as her unsullied met them head on in the alley. Soon Daario and Jorah joined them, leaving Dany and Missandei alone.

"Can you stand?" Tyrion raced over to them, a panicked look on his face.

"I don't think so," Missandei admitted.

Dany and her newest advisor shared a grim look as they watched the harpies surround them. "We won't last much longer."

"I know," Dany whispered.

"Your Grace!"

Dany's eyes lifted in surprise as Orin Stark, along with a dozen or so unsullied charged out from behind a corner to meet them. Her eyes met his and in that moment she didn't think she'd ever been more grateful in her entire life.

Her unsullied quickly joined the others as Orin sprinted towards them in distress as he knelt. She was immediately worried at the blood covering him but noticed no fatal injuries or cuts.

"Orin."

It was the worst possible time to discuss it, but Dany was sure she'd never see Orin again. After his refusal to come to the games, Dany instantly thought by the time she returned she'd find him gone. Glad to be wrong, she watched him nod slowly.

"Is she all right?" Orin breathed.

Shaking her head, Dany answered hurriedly. "She can't walk."

Eyes wide, Orin quickly rose as a harpy made it through the battle and charged towards them. Before his blade could meet Tyrion, Dany watched as Orin blocked it off effortlessly, before killing the man in one motion.

"Here," Orin said, handing his sword to Tyrion. Dany's eyes widened in surprise as the dwarf looked unsure. "Don't lose it."

Turning back, Orin quickly went to Missandei's side. "Do you mind My Lady?"

Shaking her head, Orin swiftly picked up Missandei and turned towards the others. The unsullied, along with Daario and Jorah soon rallied back, quickly defeating the men with the added support.

"Good timing Stark," Daario called out.

Dany failed to notice Jorah's curious glance as she turned towards Daario. "Get us back to the pyramid. Now!"


	33. Chapter 32

**Jgs237: The next 6-7 chapters are already written, but your Dany/Barristan idea could fit very well in the next few I have to write, so it'll come hopefully. Good idea!**

 **Alec-potter: Thank you for the reviews.**

 **Hail King Cerion: Dragons will play a part as for the fleet, read to find out….**

* * *

Chapter 32

The scene in the throne room was unlike anything Orin had ever experienced. All around, the pyramid continued to shake from the assault from the bay, as everyone stood debating the next move. Most small council meetings must have been quite similar as everyone spoke their opinion on the matter. However to Orin, the term war council seemed better suited at the moment.

Only time Orin had ever experienced anything remotely close to now was during his brief time in the twins inside Robb's camp. That was hardly a time for war preparations and more of a celebration. Although it still ended up being a battle, with only one side knowing beforehand. Hopefully this turned out better then it did for the Starks during the Red Wedding.

"The Pyramid is our only defense," Daario insisted. Gone was his laid back demeanor, replaced with a desperate sense of urgency. "If we meet them head on, many will die. We may outnumber them but they have more ships. They'll continue to bombard us and will never get close to finishing them off."

"We cannot wait out this fight." The only man Orin hadn't recognized spoke up. There'd hardly been introductions as they rushed into the pyramid. "Every moment we delay the citizens of Meereen begin to think we cannot protect them. The moment that trust is broken, we lose everything."

"Perhaps we can negotiate."

All three of them turned to Tyrion in confusion, but it was Orin who spoke up. "Negotiate? You do feel the great pyramid shaking beneath your feet?"

"I'm a dwarf, not a simpleton."

Orin didn't appreciate the sarcasm but kept his mouth shut.

"These men speak one language," Tyrion continued. For a man of his stature, he had a knack for owning the room. "Gold. Slavery was a vital part of their wealth, and Daenerys took it from them."

"You aren't suggesting bringing back slavery are you?" Daario asked.

"Of course not," Tyrion assured. "Even if I wanted to, the queen would never accept. But we don't need to give them everything they want. Just enough to keep them at bay."

"I don't think you understand these people."

Orin had to agree with Daario. Like Tyrion he hadn't grown up in a land with slavery, unlike Daario, so their knowledge of the masters was dismal at best. Only people with a real understanding of the master's cruelty could know what they were capable of.

"I have to agree."

The four men spun at the queen's voice as she entered the room. Flanked by two guards, Daenerys approached them with a stern face and a brisk walk. The aura of command suited her well as she held all their attention.

It was hard for him to do, but Orin had to hold back his happiness at seeing her alive. After the initial attack, running through the streets with the unsullied, he began to lose hope. They'd been searching for over an hour before they found them, and he didn't think he'd ever been more relieved. The moment he saw her crouched low on the flow next to Missandei, his spirits lifted, thankful she'd been all right.

Even now, in a room with her most trusted advisors, he wanted to smile at the sight of her. Ser Barristan had been right, no matter his feelings, he couldn't leave her side, not now, maybe not ever, and the feeling scared him. Weeks in Meereen had changed his outlook on her, and he worried what a year would do.

Regardless, this wasn't the time, perhaps there never would be, all he knew was that he had to help in whatever way he could.

"If the people of Meereen see me negotiating with the men responsible for killing hundreds, how long will I have their support?" Dany questioned.

"What's the alternative?" Tyrion asked, unsure what else they could do. "If you meet them head on, many of your soldiers will die. You need your men more then they need there's."

Another loud thump sounded above them as everyone lifted their head. It didn't sound like anything had broken, but now the top of the pyramid was in danger as well. It wouldn't be long until they did enough structural damage to limit their choices.

Dropping back to look at the queen, Orin noticed her relaxed state as she almost smiled. He didn't know if she'd gone mad but any closer and the flaming rocks would soon hit them.

Dany turned to Daario. "Get word to the masters, I wish to discuss a surrender."

"Surrender?" Tyrion mumbled.

"Your grace please…"

Dany stopped the unnamed man from speaking. "This isn't up for debate."

Orin was unsure what the queen was planning, but he noticed her calm demeanor, and felt it as well. She wouldn't jeopardize all she'd done for Slavers Bay just to surrender it after a short fight. No, whatever she was planning would be something neither expected.

"Forgive the intrusion but I may be able to help."

Eyes wide, Orin rounded on the familiar voice, as he spotted Varys walk calmly into the room. Tyrion had been a shock, but Orin never thought he'd see the Master of Whisperers ever again after leaving Kings Landing. The man held the truth of his heritage for years, and in a way, Orin owed him a great debt for keeping that to himself.

Still he'd never thought he'd see Varys in Meereen, and judging from the looks of everyone else, neither did they.

"Who are you?" Dany asked. The confusion as to why her guards let a stranger in during an attack was evident on her face.

"Your grace this is Lord Varys," Tyrion offered before the man could introduce himself properly. "My traveling partner until Ser Jorah kidnapped me."

The knight roll his eyes mildly in response.

"You're the spider?"

Orin wasn't sure if he heard anger in the queen's voice but Varys seemed unafraid at the prospect. "Not the most pleasant title. Varys is quite fine your grace."

"Why are you here?" Orin finally spoke up.

He noticed the man's sly smile towards him before turning back to the queen. "To help. And I believe I have a solution that can end this without anymore innocent bloodshed."

* * *

It felt strange standing in the open, facing off against the men trying to kill them, while the city behind them continued to prepare for another assault. Yet that's where Orin found himself, by the queen's side, along with Tyrion, Daario, and the man who came to be known as Ser Jorah Mormont. Orin remembered the name Mormont during his brief travels with Rendal, but couldn't think hard on it at the moment.

Also alongside them stood a dozen or so unsullied soldiers, as they protected them from the men standing a few yards away. Orin counted nearly two dozen men, and two masters who stood amongst them, as the greeting party for the negotiation.

A knight, captain of the Second sons, a few unsullied, and himself, Orin liked their chances, yet knew this would not end in blood. The queen had given strict orders, and for the first time, Orin would obey her.

Varys had been coy on his plan, but after a lengthy discussion with the queen and Tyrion, it seemed they'd come to an accord. The former small council member had decided against coming, for unknown reasons, yet Orin imagined it had something to do with their supposed plan.

Regardless of the spider's whereabouts, Daenerys stood facing off against the men attacking her city, not once showing an ounce of fear. She stood proudly, surrounded by her man, looking completely in control of the situation.

"You wish to surrender," One of the masters stated. The smirk on his face was rash for a man who'd yet to win anything. "I shouldn't be surprised. After are first meeting I knew you weren't very smart. You took a city you could not control. Not much of a queen."

"Careful," Jorah hissed, his hand dropping to his sword.

"Your in no position to make idle threats," The other said. Orin could hardly tell them apart. Both wore similar clothing, but had plain faces, and both smiled as if they'd won.

"And your in no position to decide whether or not I'm fit to rule," Dany said smoothly. "I once gave you the chance to live if you had listened to my demands. Once more you stand ignoring my words and now you decide to attack my people as well. I'm afraid this cannot go unpunished."

Resting his hand firmly on the hilt of his sword, Orin waited for the inevitable retort.

Smiling the master spoke without fear. "You're surrounded. Holed up in the great pyramid as the people you rule over burn in their homes. You will give no one punishment here."

The guards behind the masters lowered their spears ready to attack given the order. Orin felt the unsullied near him step forward, but as the queen had ordered, no one drew their weapon. Whatever plan the queen had, it had to happen soon.

No sooner, Orin watched Daenerys step forward, eyes closed, as she lifted her head slightly. It seemed odd at such a time but Orin couldn't think about for long as a distant screech sounded above them.

Lifting his head at the unfamiliar sound, Orin's face froze in amazement. The legends and stories did not do the creature justice as he watched the dragon high above descend towards them. Bigger then he ever thought possible, Orin watched as the dragon flew in closer.

For a moment he was nervous, seeing one of the great beasts that conquered the lands he called home. They were fire-breathing monsters that decimated armies and burned down castles. Yet just below it Daenerys stood almost smiling at her dragon.

Another screech came from the dragon as it sailed down at them, roughly landing atop a hill nearby. Orin took a step back, his hand tightening on his sword as he stared at the black skinned dragon. Its red eyes regarded each of them as its large mouth sneered. For a second he was sure they'd all be burned to death before it's eyes rested on Daenerys.

The look was unexplainable, but Orin watched in awe as the dragon stepped down towards them, resting his head near the queen. All the unsullied had stepped away, giving the creature it's space as it eyed its mother. Just the sheer size of the creature did not do seem possible.

Orin was sure he stopped breathing as Daenerys rested her hand against the face of the beast. It was a strange sight to see, even leaving Tyrion, who stood next to him, in wonder.

Remembering the others, Orin managed to peel his eyes away to look at the masters. They too seemed frightened at the dragon, as even the men behind them with the raised spears soon lowered their weapons.

Somehow, the master who insulted Daenerys, managed to find his voice. "You will not intimidate us."

"I do not plan to intimidate you," Daenerys said softly, her eyes never leaving her dragon. "What I offer is far more permanent."

"Our queen gave you a choice when she liberated your cities," Tyrion stepped forward. His voice was calm, much so like the diplomat he hoped to be. "She gave you the chance to live in harmony with the former slaves instead of punishing you for your sins. And what do you do with this precious gift? Attempt to fight back without thinking of the consequences."

"Your cities under siege," The master pointed out. "Unless you wish to watch as we shower the sky's with fire, you will leave Slavers Bay."

"I choose fire." Turning to face them, Dany stared hard at the two masters, before her lips opened. "Dracarys."

A heavy rumble came from the dragon's throat as Orin watched in shock as fire shot out from it's mouth, engulfing the two men. There cries lasted moments as the fire burnt through their flesh in seconds, leaving only charred corpses onto the floor. There was no pity for these men, not after all the horrors Orin had seen during his desperate sprint through the streets.

The guards who flanked the now dead masters raised their spears in anticipation, but the fear in their face was evident. They stared up at the great beast as it eyed them knowingly, waiting for the queen's command.

Instead, Daenerys stepped closer to the men, as she began to speak Valyrian. The difficulty of not understanding was annoying for Orin, but it didn't really matter. It wasn't him who the men had to listen too.

Daenerys spoke loudly for all the men to hear and whatever had been said must have worked. Soon each of the men dropped their spears as they turned towards the coast. The fire attacks had stopped from the ships as they waited for the surrender, but it wasn't that the men looked towards. Looking past the harbor, past the master's fleet, off in the distance Orin could make out the form of more ships.

Rounding quickly towards Tyrion, Orin wondered what exactly was happening. "I don't understand."

"You should feel a sense of pride for your homeland," Tyrion smiled up at him. Motioning towards the bay, he continued. "It seems good timing is on our side."

Incredibly confused, Orin turned again towards the incoming fleet. Bigger then anything the masters had used to bombard the city, the fleet sailing towards them left Orin speechless. He'd been gone for a long time, but he'd never forget the familiar sights of all those sails.

A green dragon.

 _House Toland._

A purple field with lemons.

 _House Dalt._

A red cockatrice.

 _House Gargalen._

A golden spear piercing a flaming sun.

 _House Martell._

It was hard to fathom, but home had come to him, as the Dornish fleet sailed towards Meereen.


	34. Chapter 33

**Happy Halloween!**

* * *

Chapter 33

Varys had been right.

The fear of a large dragon, 8,000 unsullied, 2,000 second sons, and a fleet of Dornish sails had been enough to end the rebellion from the masters and put a stop to the attack on Meereen. The men had been given one last choice, surrender or die. It didn't take very long for them to choose the smart option.

Two dead masters had been the only sign of what was to come had they continued their assault, and remarkably that had been enough. The moment the foot soldiers abandoned the cause, the masters lost everything. They were not great warriors, or brave men. Gold carried them, but the moment men chose their lives over their pockets, the masters lost any power they had.

Once more the city of Meereen was flourishing as the citizens and Daenerys armies worked together to repair damage and help anyone in need. Regardless of how quickly the masters had surrendered, many still had been hurt in the attack, so much work still had to be done.

Yet as Orin watched from his spot in the throne room, faraway to give the queen and her advisors the space they needed to work, he knew Daenerys would be fit to help all her people. She didn't turn down a single person, spending hours in the throne room listening and comforting her people. Each time a person would come in begging for help, tears in their eyes, she'd walk down those steps until she looked them eye to eye, promising to do whatever it took to help.

Whatever doubts Orin had of the last Targaryen ended with the master's rebellion. To watch her defend her city, defend her people, and then the incredible aftermath of it all, Orin knew in that moment, there was no better person fit to rule. It was hard to balance justice with kindness, but Daenerys found a way.

"I assumed you'd be on your way past the narrow sea by now." Turning towards the voice, Tyrion gently strode towards him. "Having seconds thoughts?"

He was, but Orin wouldn't discuss it with him. Instead, he turned back towards the queen, watching her in her element. "She's good at this. Ruling."

"She is," Tyrion agreed. He too looked at the queen perched atop her throne. "Probably the best I'd ever seen."

"I'm sure they'll be more resistance," Orin assumed. No rebellion ever ended overnight when most rebels still lived. "But the fear of a large dragon will put an end to most of it."

"I do hope so," Tyrion agreed. "3 dragons could easily lay waste to this city and others. What a shame that would be."

Orin picked up on the number. "She's released the other two?"

Tyrion nodded. "Thankfully. Part of Daenerys power comes from her dragons. She cannot afford to stunt their growth. When the time comes, I expect three full grown dragons will be quite useful in taking the 7 kingdoms."

There was no argument there. Orin had seen just a taste of the destruction one dragon could do. If Daenerys fully intended on using all three of them to conquer Westeros, there wouldn't be an army that would stand a chance. Thousands would die in the firestorm, and in the end, they'd fight a losing battle.

"Well apparently you have the support of one kingdom." It'd been almost a day since he'd seen the sails of many Dornish houses in the harbor of Slaver's Bay, and he'd yet to see anyone from Dorne. His surprise was obvious, but refrained from asking due to the more important matters at hand. "How did you manage to get Dorne here?"

"I'd very much like to say it was my ingenuity that brought Dorne into the fold, but I'm afraid I can't." The two looked over at Varys who stood in the shadows watching as the queen continued to receive citizens. "Not even Varys knew about their arrival until the last moment. Apparently they came on their on accord."

Orin frowned at the thought. "Then how do you know they came to help?"

"They sailed halfway across the world," Tyrion pointed out. "I'm sure the lords of Dorne have much better things to do then wage war on open waters in Meereen."

Eyes hard, Orin waited for the man to continue.

"You aren't very bright are you?" Tyrion asked. Before Orin could argue, the man continued. "Regardless, the queen sent Daario in her stead to greet them. I'm sure will know their true intentions soon enough."

Ignoring the jest, Orin remembered those who weren't present in the throne room. "And Missandei? How is she feeling?"

"Grateful." Tyrion regarded him differently as he smiled. "You saved her. You and the unsullied might have saved us. You should be proud."

"I did what anyone would…"

"Oh I think we can move past the terrible excuses." Orin's eyes widened as Tyrion held his hand out towards him. "Take the praise Stark. You earned it."

He could see the honesty on Tyrion's face as he relented. "Thank you."

Shaking his hand, Tyrion motioned towards the queen. "She wishes to speak with you."

Orin had hoped he would eventually talk to the queen but the moment the words were uttered, he became nervous. "Why?"

All he got was a knowing smile.

* * *

Collapsing onto a chair, Dany sighed tiredly. She couldn't remember a more stressful day then the one that had just passed. Hundreds of Meereenese turned to her for help after the aftermath of the master's attack, and for a while, she'd focused all of her attention on that.

Seeing so many devastated after their homes destroyed, families burned, and children killed, it was almost easier to give up. Yet their sadness motivated her, as she spent hours to make sure people understood that she would do everything in her power to ease the pain. She'd never bring back the dead, but she'd rebuild their homes, offer them safety, and make sure the men responsible would never again harm them.

A lot rested on blind faith, but Dany had seen and done so much in her short life that she knew she would deliver on her promises. The people of Meereen, and the rest of Slavers Bay would never have to worry about slavery or masters again.

She could see many glad at her words, while other cautious, but eventually her actions would decide everything. Words meant very little to these people, or anyone, unless actions followed swiftly. It'd take time, but it would happen, she was sure of it.

Yet as difficult as it was facing all those broken souls, it seemed her day would only get harder. After exiling him twice, Dany never thought she'd see Ser Jorah Mormont ever again. A part of her, deep down, longed for her oldest friend back at her side, but she knew it could never happen. He'd lied, betrayed, and hurt her, and the risk of happening again was too great.

So the moment she saw him standing in the pit at the great games had been quite shocking. She could still remember seeing his face, hoping for her acceptance. It was almost cruel that fate kept bringing Ser Jorah back into her life, but if not for him she'd be dead. He'd saved her, which made her decision on what to do with him that much more difficult.

However that decision never came after he showed her the Greyscale. In that moment, she could almost feel her heart break, knowing the seriousness of the situation. All her words towards him about exile meant nothing, as all she wanted was her friend to be okay.

Dany knew nothing of the disease, but knew the will of Ser Jorah. By her command, she knew one day he'd find the cure and return to her, she was sure of it. Men like that always found a way to fight, and Ser Jorah would be no exception.

There were dozens of more problems to dwell on, but for once, Dany wanted to appreciate the good in her life. As exhausted as she was, her advisors were safe, her city was no longer under attack, and she had a potential alley from Westeros waiting across the bay. Those were many things to be grateful for, and she would not take advantage of it.

"Your grace." Lifting her eyes, Dany smiled as Tyrion walked into her chambers with one more person to be grateful for. "No word on Daario yet."

"I expect it soon enough," Dany answered. She had little to worry about the Dornish fleet. "Leave us please."

Dany watched her newest advisor nod before leaving her alone with Orin Stark. It felt like months had passed since their first meeting in this very room. He stood their, cut and broken, the form of a shattered man, and now everything had changed. His once vengeful and sad violet eyes changed into something Dany hadn't seen before on him.

Hope.

Happiness.

Admiration.

Dany wasn't sure, but she did know that she rather liked when he looked like that.

"The city seems to be adjusting all right," Orin began, unsure how to start.

Remembering that there were still others outside this room, Dany agreed. "It has. It will be a long and difficult process, but I assure you, Meereen will flourish once more."

Orin smiled as he stepped forward. "I won't make the same mistake in doubting you. Not again while I live."

The words struck hard as Dany smiled thankfully. "You stayed."

"I did."

"Why?"

"Besides the obvious reason in helping innocent people," Orin began with a jest, while earning a small eye roll from Dany. "I couldn't leave you."

Trying her best to stay composed, Dany ignored the feeling she got the way Orin looked at her. The words shook her, but the look said more then what he was letting on.

"The world you want to build," Orin continued. "It'll come for Westeros. I could choose to watch from faraway as you achieve what you so desperately want, or I can help you do it the right way. I've been running for far too long, but no more. I'm choosing to help you if you'll have me."

Dany was surprised at how happy she was to hear those words as she stepped closer towards him. Stopping a few inches short, she looked up at his kind face and serious eyes and smiled tenderly.

"Orin Stark," She began, knowing she now trusted this man without any doubts. "I could not think of a better privilege then having you by my side when we sail to Westeros. You saved Ser Barristan's life, you helped save Missandei and Greyworms, you defended the people of Meereen without question, and you did it all without my command. Your choices are the reason many of us are standing here today, and I cannot thank you enough for that. Stark, Dayne, Sand, it does not matter, you've earned the right to carry that sword, and you have my gratitude for it. Now and always."

Dany could see the emotion on his face as she spoke to him, and guessed she had the same look. What had once started off as a hostile relationship had now become one of mutual respect and admiration. Whatever bad blood there was between their two great families, the both of them now saw past it.

"Thank you," Orin hesitated for a moment. "Your Grace."

It was nearly impossible to hold back her smile as Dany laughed. It took a siege on her city for the man to finally address her as 'your grace', but in the end he succumbed. She knew she must have done something right to earn his approval and would have pressed on the matter but in that moment Daario had walked into her chambers.

An odd feeling past over her as she saw the curious look her lover gave the two of them, before she looked at Orin. The happiness in his eyes was now gone as his face-hardened. She'd assumed the stupid rivalry the two had was long gone, but apparently she was wrong. Refusing to play at their childish games, she addressed the more pressing matter.

"Well?"

"You have more friends then you thought," Daario answered. "They've asked for an audience."

"And they shall have one." Turning back to Orin, Dany invited him as well. "I'm assuming you'd like to see the familiar lords of your homeland?"

* * *

Orin stood above the stairs perched near the queen as she sat waiting for her quests. It was a surreal moment for him as he stood near the queen and her closest advisors. A few weeks ago he was standing at the bottom of the same stairs in chains wondering if he'd be burned to death. Now he stood waiting for honored guests.

It was a welcome change of pace and as Orin quickly stole a glance at Daenerys, one he knew he'd never regret. He'd never met a person like her before and knew even just helping her accomplish the goals she had, would be enough for him. His feelings meant very little in the grand scheme of things and he knew he'd have to shelter them.

Right now he'd help the queen save his home from the people responsible for most of his family's death, and for now that would be more then enough.

"Last time I waited for a greeting party from Dorne I was humiliated."

Orin, Daenerys, and Daario all turned to Tyrion in confusion as he sat staring ahead aimlessly. Surprised at his own words, he shook his head, before rounding on them in a muffled state.

"I haven't had a drink in awhile," Tyrion offered. "Apparently my minds not as sharp as to when I'm drunk."

"I don't expect you to be drunk half the time during these meetings," Dany pressed.

Sighing in frustration, Tyrion turned to him. "Please tell me you drink."

Orin could feel the curious eyes of the queen on him as he answered. "On occasion."

"That's better then never."

A Stark, Targaryen, and Lannister, all standing together without bloodshed, it truly was a remarkable sight. Although each had their own inner battles with their name, each also understood the value that the name held.

The sound of footsteps had each of them turning towards the entrance in anticipation. Orin didn't realize how much he was looking forward to maybe seeing a familiar face from Dorne until now. He hadn't known many lords by face, but knew enough to recognize their names.

Guards entered the room first dressed in the familiar yellow scarves and outfits Orin was accustomed to seeing during his visits to Sunspear and the water gardens. He was so happy to see the familiar sight of house Martell that he completely forgot to think of who they'd send in place of Prince Doran.

The question died before he could even process the thought as his eyes widened in shock. So long on his own, surrounded by strangers, he never thought he'd ever see a familiar face so soon. He fully expected he'd die before ever seeing anyone from Dorne again, and in this moment, he was so glad he was wrong.

Flanked by each guard, Arianne's dark eyes met his, and soon she froze too. For a moment no one spoke, just the two parties regarding each other waiting for the other to speak.

The wait was too painful for Orin as he sprinted down the stairs towards her as she did the same. In seconds he made his way into her open arms as relief crashed over him. The two held each other tight at the bottom of the throne, happiness adorned both their face.

"Arianne," Orin whispered into her hair.

He could feel her tears on his neck as she squeezed him back. "I thought you were dead."

Shaking his head, Orin refused to let her go. "I'm still here. I promise, I'm still here."


	35. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

The meeting between Daenerys and the Dornish lords had been put on hold after Orin had requested for a moment alone with Arianne. It seemed rude to ask, but the queen had been very gracious in giving the two time to speak alone after so long.

So here they sat, the two with no one around, staring at each other thinking it wasn't real. It was hard for Orin, just as it must have been for Arianne as well, to see someone he never thought he'd see again.

The day he left Starfall he had no intentions on ever returning. At the time he thought he'd eventually help Robb's cause and see where things went from there, but that unfortunately never came to be. Then with everything that happened in Kings Landing, to washing up on shore in Essos, the day seeing Arianne's beautiful smile seemed like a distant dream. Yet here he sat, his hands in hers, as she gently stroked her fingers across his injured hand.

"What did they do to you?" She whispered, her voice heavy with emotion. It was a side he'd never seen from Arianne before, even if he knew it was there all along. "Did she do this?"

Orin knew whom she meant. "The queen had nothing to do with that."

"And this?" Bringing her hand towards his face, she caressed his cheek tenderly, brushing her fingers lightly over his scar. "I'll kill whoever did this to you."

Amused at her anger, Orin rested his hand against hers. "He's dead, I assure you."

His assurances did nothing to calm her as she eyed him sadly. Orin hated the look of pity from most people, but not her. He'd known her too long to know it wasn't pity in her eyes, but sadness. Gently, she closed the distance between them, hugging his head into her shoulder, as she held on tight.

"I'm so sorry," Arianne whispered.

Orin had accepted his wounds, but nodded in understanding. "It's okay."

"It's not." Holding back more tears, Arianne took his face in her hands once more as she stared, eyes never blinking. "I know what happened. To your mother…"

Even thinking about his mother's death made it all the more real. She'd been gone for some time, but a small part in Orin's head believed if he never mentioned it, it'd never be real. All of it would soon be gone when he returned home and he'd find his mother back at Starfall. A fool's errand to be sure.

"I should have never left Sunspear," Orin whispered, remembering that day. Every second was burned into his memory. "I should have stayed with you."

"No," Arianne shook her head. Her hands squeezed onto his neck; almost to be sure he was really there. "You were right to be angry. But there is no chance that any of this is your fault. You loved your mother Orin; I know this because I've seen it. You did everything you could, and there is no one to blame besides the people responsible."

Orin heard the undertone as he searched her eyes. "I'm sorry about your uncle. I wish I could have fought in his place."

"So you could die at the hands of the mountain?" The name was almost venom from Arianne's mouth, as she tried to remain calm. "My uncle made a terrible mistake, but one I imagine he'd make again if it meant getting justice for his sister. His anger towards the Lannisters is unlike anyone I've ever seen. Until now."

His anger must have been quite obvious. "I want justice for them Arianne. You know that. For my mother, for your uncle, for the Starks…"

The moment the family name was said, Orin noticed Arianne's change of mood. For so long he'd expected she'd known about his true name since he'd left Sunspear but he was never sure. Oberyn had known, which mean Prince Doran probably knew as well. Orin knew the relationship Arianne had with her father and expected his secret to be among the things they shared.

"Did you know?"

Her eyes never faltered as she shook her head. "No. I only found out after you left."

"I assumed you knew," Orin admitted. "Seems like everyone did."

"They did it to protect you." Arianne could here the resent in his voice. "Do not resent them."

"I was angry. For so long," Orin remembered. The last few days with his mother had been the worst in his life. "But no more. I will not let hate decide how it ends. My family deserves better then having me die for vengeful purposes."

Whatever he'd said must have startled the girl as she pulled back and regarded him in a new light. She stayed quiet, giving Orin the chance to really look at her. Arianne's usual playful demanding demeanor was gone, replaced with a serious confident look. Command suited her, even if it looked strange on someone so beautiful.

 _Shouldn't be too surprised._ Orin thought of Daenerys.

"You've changed," Arianne mumbled.

For a moment Orin thought she was sad at the idea. "Have I?"

Smiling at his doubt, Arianne smiled. "You've always been so serious Orin. Doing the right thing, saying the right thing, no matter for your own self-interest. It's one of the many things I was drawn too. But now I feel like this is the first time I'm really seeing you. You're a man now, and not just in body, but in mind too, and an honorable one at that."

Orin smiled gratefully, unsure what to say.

"Is this change all because you love the dragon queen?"

The words had Orin gasping for air as he coughed violently, shaking his head hard. "I do not love her."

"Don't you?"

"No I don't," He pressed.

Arianne's playful smile had him remembering a simpler time. "Good. I've been on a boat for quite some time, and could use the company."

"Arianne I don't think…"

"Shhh, you still talk too much," Arianne teased, remembering their last encounter. Grabbing his good hand, she gently pulled him up. "Now come along, we have much to discuss with the Queen of Meereen. Then I plan on having another discussion with you alone when we're finished."

* * *

Deciding against using the throne room to address the visiting Dornish Lords, Daenerys had chosen her council room to discuss current events with her guests. Orin stood nearby close to the open balcony as he watched the table with great interest.

Arianne sat comfortably, regarding the queen with curiosity and what looked to be mischief, although Orin hoped the latter was just misleading. Now wasn't the time for Arianne to act rash and playful like she tended to do on occasion.

On each side of her, Tyrion and Varys sat, while Daario stood behind his queen with watchful eyes. None of the three men had said a word, instead sizing up the situation. Perhaps the biggest surprise, besides the Dornish guests, was Ser Barristan standing beside the queen as she sat, staring intently.

Orin admired the man's will, as even in clear discomfort, the knight fulfilled his duty in protecting his queen. He imagined Ser Barristan would have walked out the room during the attack on Meereen had it not been for the two guards watching over him. The man would die for his queen, an act people took for granted.

Lastly, Orin's eyes rested on Daenerys, who sat watching Arianne with great interest. They hadn't spoken since he and Arianne had come back, but he could tell the queen had many questions. She was obviously curious as to why the Dornish fleet had sailed so far east, as well as how Orin knew the princess who sat across her.

"I did not expect to greet the princess of Dorne today," Dany started.

"Today is full of surprises," Arianne agreed. She subtly looked over at Orin before smiling at the queen. "Some better then others."

Dany noticed the look but decided on asking. "Why are you here?"

"I thought that was obvious."

Tyrion cleared his voice as Arianne turned to him. "Obvious doesn't exactly describe the situation we are all in. You brought the Dornish fleet. Nearly all of it I imagine."

"Half."

Tyrion smiled. "Why?"

Orin noticed the hard stare Arianne gave Tyrion before she answered. "Many years ago, my aunt was to be queen to Prince Rhaegar before she was brutally murdered, along with her children. Now, not so long ago, my uncle died at the hands of the same person responsible."

"You want justice for your family," Dany summarized.

"Justice?" Arianne repeated. Shaking her head, her usual smile was gone. "My father for many years refused in acting against these terrible crimes, but his brother's death destroyed the last bit of resolve he had. Dorne will no longer sit idly by as it's people continue to be raped and murdered. You plan on taking back the seven kingdoms; Dorne is one of those kingdoms. Help us bring those responsible for my families suffering to justice, and you will have are support."

Dorne wasn't as powerful as some of the other kingdoms, but what they lacked in numbers they made up for in their ability to kill. Orin had read many stories growing up on the dangers many Dornish possessed, and knew that having Dorne in the fold helped a great deal in the queen's cause.

"Your father…" Dany began.

"Prince Doran."

"Prince Doran." Dany's tight smile gave Orin all the evidence he needed on how to queen viewed Arianne. Her personality was a unique one to handle in the beginning. "How does Prince Doran wish to proceed in this alliance? I understand you brought many ships and men as a sign of fealty. What exactly does your father wish for in return? Besides killing all his enemies?"

Arianne looked slightly annoyed as she spoke. "Unfortunately, my fool of a brother decided to fall in love with Cersei Lannisters only daughter, putting us at a disadvantage seeing as how you have no other bloodline in which I could marry to solidify are alliance."

"I am short on relatives."

"And soon so will I," Arianne added. Her eyes drifted around the room, first from Tyrion, then towards the queen, and finally resting on Orin. He saw the mischief in her eyes and hoped she wouldn't do anything stupid. "It's quite the group you've managed to obtain. Lannister and Stark, standing behind a Targaryen. I see great potential in other ways of solidifying a bond that could be advantageous for all of us."

Both Tyrion and Orin eyed each other before looking back towards the queen. Daenerys understood enough to know where the princess was heading for, and smiled in response.

"I'm sure when the time comes, we can discuss ways in finding a solution."

"His head would do," Arianne gestured towards Tyrion, who eyed her in shock. "Although I imagine that would be an inconvenience."

"For my head yes," Tyrion mumbled.

Daenerys tried a more diplomatic approach. "I understand your trepidation on some of the families represented in this room…"

"Some?" Arianne repeated. She eyed Tyrion hard. "This man is partly responsible for my uncle Oberyn's death."

"I had nothing to do with it…"

"He was fighting for you!"

"He was fighting for himself!"

"Enough!"

The room fell silent as everyone eyed the queen. Her look of annoyance was evident as she stared hard at the two squabbling guests. Her ability to quiet a room and convey such a look fascinated Orin. It was the look leaders possessed, and a rare one to control. Instilling fear was easy, but using that to make sure no one ever turned on you was the difficult part.

"The Lannisters have wronged all of us," Daenerys began, looking at each of them. "All of us suffered at the hands of Tywin Lannister, yet none of us had the hardship of ever knowing the man personally. Lord Tyrion dealt with his father's cruelty all his life, and because of him, we no longer have Tywin Lannister as an enemy."

Tyrion had done all of them a great service, but as Orin eyed Arianne, he knew she didn't see it that way. House Martell despised House Lannister for so long, that it was difficult for them to see anything but an enemy.

Doing her best to remain calm, Arianne smiled. "I don't trust him. To be honest I'm not sure I trust you, but my father is keen on the matter. But I do trust Orin. I know him well enough to know that if he's standing by you in the wars to come, then it's the best chance of getting justice for all our families."

Orin could feel Daenerys eye's on him but stared forward, unwilling to meet her gaze. He didn't need the added pressure of knowing he was all that stood between an alliance between both parties.

"House Martell will fight alongside you your grace," Arianne rose from her seat. "You will have the support of all the other Dornish houses as well. Together we will bring an end to our enemies and peace back to the realm. If you'll have us."

Surprised at her willingness, Orin turned towards the queen for her response. The struggle was obvious as she eyed her advisors. Each of them most likely had different views on how to handle the situation, but Orin knew it only came down to one. Daenerys walked a path that usually ended with her own choice, and she would not find it in any of her advisors words.

"You'll have an answer by tonight."

Arianne seemed amused at the response. "Are you so well prepared for a fight that you could insult a great house?"

"I insult no one," Dany insisted, standing as well. "I am Queen of Meereen. Which means I am responsible for everyone in this city. I will not make a haste decision for personal reasons without taking into consideration their well being. You will have my answer tonight."

Daenerys answer proved much of what Orin already knew about the queen and her willingness to do the right by her people. It was what many kings lacked in past experience, but one the queen took to uphold amongst everything else.

The queen's response had even Arianne slightly impressed as she nodded. "Then tonight I shall wait."

Giving a slight bow to the queen, Arianne turned towards the hall. She gave Orin a quick smile before exiting the room, leaving everyone else wondering what to do. Orin for the most part remained still, wondering what Daenerys would decide. It seemed obvious to choose the alliance, knowing more men would rally to her cause, but the fear of not knowing where the alliance would go was enough to worry her.

"What will you do?" Daario asked.

Orin turned towards the others, quickly noticed the look the queen was giving him. "I'd like to speak with Lord Stark alone. Now!"


	36. Chapter 35

**jgs237: His status as a Dayne or Stark will be cemented in later chapters towards the end of the story. Still ways to go.**

 **ZabuzasGirl: Thank you.**

 **alec-potter: Thank you, and glad it was better then you expected, hopefully this one is the same.**

 **zpvasgl2704: Here's Dany's response lol!**

 **Guest: I'm going to be honest, this review actually made me laugh out loud hahaha, in a good way. Wouldn't that be nice for Orin? Two beautiful strong willed women with interesting qualities that make them so unique to share a bed with? I'm not going to slam the idea right away because the story isn't finished yet and taking any suggestion out of the realm of possibility isn't too smart, but I will say there's about a 99% of that not happening lol. Unless i get floored with reviews of everyone else thinking the same thing lol. But thanks for the review and idea!**

 **Silver crow: Hopefully it delivers.**

* * *

Chapter 35

The room was silent as Orin squared off against the queen. She stood a few feet away, staring him down, as he stood unmoving. The others had left quickly after the queen's command and since, neither had spoken. Arianne's little game had caused tension in the room as the queen tried to figure out her next plan of action.

Orin for the most part tried to hide his smile. It wasn't very amusing to see the queen so unraveled knowing her decision was a difficult one, but more so knowing that Arianne's attitude was one that surprised people. Daenerys was not used to people confronting her head on, just as Orin had once done. So seeing Arianne do it as well had been slightly amusing.

"The Princess of Dorne seems to trust you," Dany finally said.

Orin nodded. "I spent many days in Sunspear growing up. My mother was close with the Martells. Arianne and I became fast friends."

"Friends?" Dany stepped around the table that separated them and approached. Her hard stare had been replaced with a coy smile. "I've been gone for quite a long time so the customs may confuse me in Westeros, but forgive me, lovers and friends aren't exactly one of the same last I remembered."

The heat on his cheeks flared as Orin wished he'd been talking to anyone else but the queen about his personal life. "We aren't lovers."

"Really?" Dany didn't seem convinced. "Apparently she wishes to marry you to solidify our alliance. That doesn't come across as friendly but more so planned in her self interest."

There was still much Dany had to learn about the princess. "Arianne has a peculiar nature. I'm sure she does not mean to actually marry me."

"Only bed you," Dany added.

"You mean like your sell sword?" Orin didn't realize the bite his words had.

"Daario doesn't control a kingdom!" Dany argued. "He was devoted to me before anything even began!"

Once more his cheeks flared as Orin shifted away slightly. "Why are we even discussing this? She's come here for you, not me."

"Apparently not." Dany rolled her eyes but agreed. "But your right. I have bigger problems. The Dornish fleet, their support, can I trust them?"

Without hesitating, Orin nodded. "You can."

"Why?"

Her skepticism was beyond grueling. "You wish to conquer the seven kingdoms as your ancestors once did. In my opinion, conquering one less kingdom seems like the smartest choice."

"I trust those numbers, but I don't trust their loyalty."

"Then trust mine." Stepping forward, Orin no longer felt embarrassed in front of the queen as he stared her down. "I promise you, Arianne and Prince Doran can be trusted. They want the same thing we do. Let them help you."

The two stood close, almost two close, as they both tried to figure out what to do next. Asking for help wasn't easy, especially asking strangers, but if Dany wanted to conquer Westeros, she'd need all the help she could find. Right now Dorne was willing, all she had to do was accept.

"I trust you," Dany said quietly.

The words meant more to Orin then he thought as he looked down at her. His ability to hold back the feelings he had was growing more difficult at each passing moment the two shared together. All he wanted was to confess and pray that she felt the same.

Breaking the heavy eye contact, Dany turned, returning to her seat in haste. "I'm sure there are Lords from Dorne you wish to see after so long. And the princess must also want another chance to speak with you."

"Of course." The deflection had Orin reeling as he stepped backwards.

Turning his back to her, Orin left the room, slightly in shame for ever thinking that the queen would have any feelings towards him. She was to be the ruler of a realm, and he would just be another passing man. How could she possibly feel anything for him?

Slowly walking away, Orin refused to turn back towards her, missing the wistful look the queen gave him as he left.

* * *

Tyrion prided himself on being the smartest person in the room each time he entered one. He would never be the tallest, or the strongest, or best looking, but one way to get everything you want was to out maneuver the others in ways they couldn't. His mind was all he had, especially with his name now tarnished, so relying on it was his only option.

Kings Landing had been a terrible test for him, showing that as smart as he thought he was, there were still people who could hurt him in other ways. The mind could only do so much when the enemy was everywhere.

Yet here in Meereen there were no devious minds, except for Varys of course, but the man had saved his life, so Tyrion had no fear of the eunuch. Everyone else however was much easier to read. Unlike Cersei who had been impossible to read or council, Daenerys was quite the opposite. She listened to his advice and spoke with him in confidence over important matters, giving Tyrion more knowledge on the people around him.

The sell sword was devoted, Ser Barristan didn't trust him, Missandei was wary of him, and Orin Stark did whatever he thought right. They were simple to read and easy to understand which made Tyrion's life expectancy that much longer.

He'd given up on life, but things had gotten quite interesting in Meereen over the past couple days, giving him a sense of curiosity that needed to be filled. The world the queen wanted was one he was very keen on seeing and hoped one day he'd help create.

So as he sat, watching the queen's advisors counsel her on Dorne's offer, he wondered if they all thought the offer was as beneficial as he thought it was.

"Do you really think you can trust them?" Daario asked. He stood near Tyrion, distrust all over his face. "Orin Stark's word means very little when a fleet is facing off against us in the bay."

Tyrion may have been a drunk, but he was no fool. The sell sword and heir to Winterfell's annoyance with each other was quite obvious and Tyrion wondered if the queen knew she was the cause of it all. It was no secret that Daenerys had taken Daario as a lover, nor did they hide it, but Orin Stark's feelings were quite secretive it appeared.

They boy could lie to the queen, lie to himself, even lie to Tyrion, but eyes never did. Tyrion saw the looks, specifically during the attack on Meereen, and knew the Starks feelings. He pitied the boy, knowing nothing would ever come to be. Daenerys had given some inclination she felt the same, seeing as how she kept pushing to have Orin on her side. He might have been heir to the north, but the north was in shambles, and would not be a formidable alley in the wars to come.

"Normally I'd agree," Tyrion interjected. Orin Stark's words did mean little when speaking for an entire kingdom, but actions spoke to him. "But the Martells have great hatred for my family. I refuse to believe they accept my family on the throne."

"So their hatred justifies their loyalty?"

"Elia Martell was married to your brother your grace," Ser Barristan spoke up. Tyrion could see the discomfort the man was in. "The two shared children before they were murdered. They want justice for their family, for your family."

"So you'd have me trust them?" Dany asked.

Tyrion was grateful when the knight nodded.

"We need their ships," Dany admitted. She looked at each of them before resting her eyes on Daario. "And we need their men. If I become doubtful of every Lord and Lady, then everyone becomes my enemy and I am not that kind of queen."

The others nodded as Tyrion tried to hold back a smile. The fine balance of tough choices and wise decisions was hard to master, but Daenerys seemed to have figured it out. Tyrion had seen flashes of her anger, yet moments of kindness, and together they made for a rare talent.

Perhaps Varys had been right.

"That will be all," Dany announced.

Getting up, Tyrion watched the others leave before approaching the queen. "A word your grace?"

"Of course."

Taking the seat closest to her, Tyrion poured himself a glass. "Your captain is quite cynical."

"Most men are."

Tyrion couldn't argue with that. "That is true. I sometimes find myself only seeing what others have to gain from each action taken. How did the word get so cold?"

Dany's eyes drifted towards the open balcony. "We let cruelty become normal."

"It's a difficult process, but you have the right council to change that."

Dany turned to him, a smirk on her face. "I assume you speak of yourself."

Tyrion smiled. "I'd very much like to believe I'm a good person, or have good tendencies at best. Gods know I've done plenty wrong in my life. Yet people like Ser Barristan and Missandei, people who truly see the good, not for self-interest, but for everyone. These are voices to listen too."

"So you're saying to ignore Daario's council."

"Gods no." Shaking his head, Tyrion refused the idea. "I'm a firm believer that every person has a story to tell. Every story leaves the listener that much more knowledgeable. Daario Naharis has a vast knowledge on things many of us would never understand. It's your job to listen to every story, and then decide what parts you choose to remember."

"There are many stories," Dany pointed out.

Lifting his glass, Tyrion cheered. "That is why you have others to help you listen."

The two smiled at each other before the sudden arrival of an unsullied guard and Varys broke their conversation. Tyrion quickly noticed the serious look his once traveling partner had on his face and frowned.

"This can't be good," Tyrion mumbled.

"What is it?" Dany asked.

Varys eyed Tyrion as he stepped forward, before smiling lightly towards the queen. "Urgent news your grace, from the north."

* * *

No good would come from visiting Arianne at this hour, but as Orin stood outside her door, night quickly upon them, he knew he had nowhere else to go. Regardless of her usual manor, Arianne was the closest thing to home he had, and right now Orin needed that.

Two guards from Sunspear met him outside the door as he approached. Without saying a word the two stepped aside, most likely instructed by Arianne, as Orin went inside. He wanted to roll his eyes at the looks each guard had adorned their face, but never got the chance.

His eyes drank in the sight of the Princess of Dorne as she sat by her bed, quill in hand, as she wrote a letter. Only a small candle gave light to the room, revealing only half of her wondrous face.

Orin must have been a fool for not succumbing to her beauty like so many before him had. Smart, beautiful, well spoken, a good name, and a past shared together, everything pointed towards the inevitable, yet as Arianne turned slowly towards him with a smile, he knew exactly why it would never work.

"Your trip was a success." Word had quickly gotten to Orin on the alliance between the queen and House Martell. "You must be happy."

Arianne smiled. "I am. Although I'm sure it's you I must be thanking. I'm sure the queen asked you about are loyalty."

"She did."

"As I expected." Looking back down at her letter, Arianne continued to write. "Regardless, my father will be pleased with the result."

"I am a bit surprised," Orin admitted. He remembered Prince Doran quite well, more specifically the prince's aversion to warfare. "Your father doesn't strike me as a battle commander."

"That we can agree."

Her words sounded almost harsh. "Are you angry with him?"

"Disappointed." Arianne stood from her seat as she approached him. "I wish it hadn't taken Oberyn's death for my father to finally take a stance in this war."

"He was trying to protect you." His own words had him smiling as he made his way towards the table for a much needed drink. "I suppose that's something both our parents have in common."

His back towards her, Orin was caught off guard when Arianne's hand slipping into his, gently pulling him around. His eyes met hers instantly as she stepped closer, no space between them, caressing his fingers.

"I missed you."

Her words startled him. "I missed you as well."

Arianne's other free hand soon found its way towards his face as she pressed her fingers against his scar. The wound no longer hurt, only the memory keeping him up late at night.

Noticing her bright smile, Orin frowned slightly. "What is it?"

"It's funny."

"What is?"

"I was thinking about the last thing Oberyn said to me before he left for Kings Landing." Curious at the response, Orin said nothing as she continued. "Apparently you and I were to wed to broker an alliance between Dorne and the North."

Even a continent away, tragedies struck to both of them, and war looming at anytime, Arianne still had time to tease him as if they were back in her chambers in Dorne. She didn't let anything change who she was, and Orin respected that.

"You'd get bored of me," Orin whispered.

Her beautiful smile brightened. "I know I would. I'd expect you'd find me with another man not so long after we married."

Orin couldn't hold back the laugh as the two remained close together. "They say honesty is important in a marriage."

"More important then love," Arianne answered truthfully. Her fingers dropped towards his lips as her smile disappeared. "But if I were to marry for love, I'd expect to be looking up at you when the time came."

The raw emotion from her words stunned Orin as he felt her push his neck lower towards her. Resting his forehead against hers, the two stood in silence, never once looking away. The last thing Orin wanted to do was hurt another person he cared for.

Desire was clear in her eyes, but hurt would soon follow. Gently lifting his head, Orin planted a kiss atop her head, before pulling away. He wanted to stay, but refused to hurt her, as he spun towards the door.

He was a coward for not facing her.

Gripping the handle, Orin opened the door to a surprising sight. Ser Barristan stood waiting, a soulful look etched upon his face. They hadn't spoken since before the attack, and Orin wondered if perhaps the man had been sent here for Arianne.

"Ser Barristan."

"Orin," The man greeted.

"Do you wish to see the princess?"

Shaking his head, Ser Barristan never once smiled. "It's you I have to speak with."

"What about?"

The knight's serious face did nothing to calm Orin's nerves. "We just got word from the north. It's about Sansa Stark."

Orin's stomach dropped at the name.

"She's alive Orin, and she's on the run."


	37. Chapter 36

**Guest: Sorry for the lack of kisses between Dany and Orin hahahaha.**

 **Alec-potter: Noticed my tendency of cliffhangers, and will try and reel it in a bit. Don't worry; he's not a follower. Orin will have plenty of moments of going against everyone else.**

 **JAIMOL: Thank you.**

 **Silver Crow: Glad it delivered lol. The interactions with Arianne and Orin are amazing to write and bounce back with because there are endless possibilities. She's just an intriguing character with so many different layers. I'm not sure 'compete' would be the right word for Dany and Arianne's relationship hahaha, only because I don't want to turn this into a soap opera, but they definitely have a tension between them. And lastly, I get a few responses concerning Orin's belief of being a Dayne, so I'd thought I'd clear that up now. Like Jon, Orin was never a Dayne. He'd been raised a Sand his whole life. Of course the customs are different and he wasn't treated so terribly, but never did he think of himself as Orin Dayne. Yet I can say without a doubt that even after knowing who his true father was, Orin did and still does, idolize his uncle Arthur. He's the man he wants to be and he's the man who Orin questions the most. How did his uncle decide? How did his uncle attack? How did his uncle choose? He's a Stark in name, but a Dayne at heart.**

 **Guest: That story won't be updated for a while, as I'm concentrating on this one at the moment. Terribly sorry for the inconvenience, but writers block severely stopped me from updating. Hopefully I can work past it soon.**

 **C.E.W.: Hopefully the way it plays out, it'll be easier to see from Orin's mindset. Also, I find it amusing that a lot of you keep thinking Orin has to prove himself and his name to the Lords of the North; I'm excited for when you find out the truth.**

 **Bhn: Thank you, and here you go!**

* * *

Chapter 36

The loud steps echoed through the halls as Orin headed towards the throne room. His pace was quick, almost too quick for the injured knight, but not even the man's plea's was enough to slow him. He didn't even know if Ser Barristan was still behind him, or Arianne, who'd also left her room trying to keep up.

Their shouts were heard but all Orin could do was think about Sansa. He'd been gone from Westeros for far too long, trapped in this city on his own will, nearly forgetting about the promise he'd made Robb Stark. Without even realizing it, Orin had gone against everything he prided himself on, because of his feelings.

It was horrible to admit, but he knew it were true. The moment he'd been able to walk, he should have left towards home. In fact, he never should have been in Essos to begin with. Conin had meant well, but sailing away from Sansa had been the wrong move.

 _Conin._

Thinking about his friend, Orin realized how much he insulted those who'd died by staying in Meereen for so long. Sitting down day after day with Daenerys Targaryen, slowly falling into the trap that she was, he'd disgraced himself and those who died for him to be here.

Blaming the queen would have been easy, but that was as far from the truth as could be. She'd offered help, promised to destroy his enemies, and given him a chance to live after countless insults thrown her way. The queen had been kind to him, but in that kindness, he'd let his guard down.

After his mother had died, all Orin could do was think about killing those who'd been responsible. It was all he dreamt of in each passing moment and for a while had been his only true goal. He still remembered the talk he had with Robb about killing Tywin Lannister for him, knowing both would benefit greatly from the death. Yet his vengeance died the moment Catelyn Stark reminded him that her daughter was still a prisoner. His need to kill had been pushed aside for doing what his mother had always told him.

The right thing.

Sailing to Essos, losing Conin, taken as a prisoner, advising Daenerys, having feelings for the queen, and finally joining her cause, every choice he made and every outcome that followed never once benefited Sansa Stark. He'd failed her each day that passed, but no longer.

Heading past the main entrance, Orin was surprised to see the Queen already sitting on her throne. It was late, very late, but she must have known that the moment he knew the truth he'd seek her out.

Even Varys and Tyrion stood near her, watching him from atop with careful eyes. Both understood his need to find Sansa better then most. Behind him, Ser Barristan and Arianne finally walked inside, stepping towards him as he stood below the stairs.

The knight soon joined the others at the top as they stared down at him.

"Is it true?" Orin said only to Varys, knowing he was the conveyer of information.

"Orin…" Dany began.

Looking up at her, Orin's eyes begged her. "Please."

Dany hated the look of sadness on him as she nodded slowly towards Varys. "Go on."

Varys began slowly. "Sansa Stark escaped Winterfell many days ago and hasn't been seen since."

"Winterfell?" Orin didn't understand how she came to be so far north. "How? Why?"

Varys looked towards Tyrion before continuing. "A marriage was brokered with Ramsay Bolton, Roose Bolton's bastard son to solidify their claim on the north. A Stark by their side, the Boltons claim would never be threatened."

The mention of the Bolton name had Orin fuming inside. "The Boltons killed her family. Why is she even remotely near them?"

"It doesn't matter…"Tyrion offered.

Rounding on him, Orin glared. "It doesn't matter! She was your wife. Do you have no regard for her well being!"

"Of course I do," Tyrion said. He took a few steps down as a sign of peace. "I only meant that she escaped. Whatever the Boltons had left the moment she disappeared."

"Roose Bolton controls the north," Orin pointed out. "How long will she remain hidden!"

"Not long I imagine," Tyrion agreed. Sansa was tough, but surviving the harsh weather, possibly alone, the thought wasn't reassuring. "But she has a brother. Jon Snow's at Castle Black. If she's going anywhere it's there."

Orin knew the name. "That's too great a risk. The Boltons have more men then the Night's Watch."

"He's right," Barristan spoke up. "Even then most of the boys are thief's and rapists from the dungeons of Kings Landing. They won't put up much of a fight against Roose Bolton."

"Roose Bolton is a traitor and alley to the Lannisters," Dany remembered. "He will not be in charge of the north once I reach Westeros."

Orin appreciated the support from the others but knew what had to be done. "There's no time for that. Meereen is still vulnerable, and you won't be sailing to Westeros anytime soon, at least not before the Boltons find her."

Dany knew what was happening but had to ask. "What are you saying?"

"I need passage back to Westeros so I could find her."

"Don't be foolish," Arianne spoke up. She hurried next to him, glaring. "She'll die before you reach her. Then you'll die as well."

"They won't kill her," Orin said. It was a gamble, but one he knew made sense. "Varys is right. They need her alive to have a claim on Winterfell. She's the last remaining Stark, they can't kill her."

"You're a Stark," Arianne pointed out.

"Which is exactly why I'm going." Orin turned towards the queen expectantly. He could see the doubt in her eyes but didn't care. "You once said that you fought so that every person in this city could be given a choice. This is my choice, right or wrong. I need to find her, and I need your help to do it."

* * *

Dany stood staring down at the city as night consumed them. It seemed peaceful from up here but in the darkness it was hard to tell. There hadn't been an incident concerning the masters or harpies since she crushed their rebellion and hoped the peace would last. As much as she enjoyed defending and ruling over the city of Meereen, it was not home to her. It did not feel like home to her, and one day she hoped Westeros would.

One of her greatest fears was conquering the seven kingdoms only for it to feel foreign to her. She'd suffered and fought for so long, and then to succeed and feel nothing would be the greatest punishment she could possibly imagine.

It felt ridiculous to worry for things out of her control, but Dany did. It felt like she spent every waking moment worrying as queen, even when there was good news. Her city was safe, a new alley had joined her ranks, and she finally connected once again with her dragons. She should have been happy, or partly at least, but she wasn't.

Perhaps its because she hated settling on her accomplishments. Their was still much to do and the task at hand would only get more difficult over time. It was easy for her to blame her future battles for her misery, rather then face the fact that the idea of Orin Stark leaving for Westeros without her bothered her greatly.

He'd become an alley, a close alley, and one she very much did not want to see dead. The thought of him sailing back to Westeros, searching the north alone for someone who was most likely dead terrified her. Yet she could not turn his request away, even if she wanted too. What kind of a queen, or yet person, would she be if she turned away a man searching for his family? With no help, or resources, or even odds, Orin Stark was willing to do the impossible to help an innocent girl. His life was on the line, but still he pushed forward. If Orin was willing to lose everything to find Sansa Stark, then Dany had to be strong enough to let him.

"Your grace."

Turning at the unfamiliar voice, Dany was surprised to see the princess of Dorne in her chambers. It was late, very late, and Dany assumed all her guests had fallen fast asleep after their long journey.

"Princess Arianne," Dany greeted formally.

Arianne nodded as she looked around their surroundings. "The structure you rule from is quite unique. I must admit I've never seen something so enchanting before. Other then you of course."

Dany felt a bit embarrassed at the comment but hid it well. "That's very kind."

Her newest alley was hard to read, and because of that, Dany found herself not warming to the princess. Her mannerisms were confusing, the way she spoke to her in front of her people was less then adequate, and the past relationship she had with Orin was constantly thrown in Dany's face. It felt stupid to even think of that, but Dany did not know whose allegiance Orin sided with. Hers, or his beautiful old friend who clearly only wanted to bed him.

"Orin agrees with me," Arianne admitted with a smile.

Dany wasn't sure as to what part she meant but avoided asking. "You've come very late. How may I help you?"

"Do you care for him?" Arianne asked bluntly.

Refusing to play to Arianne's advantage, Dany nodded. "I care about every person devoted to my cause."

"And is he?" Arianne stepped closer to her, almost to close. "Devoted to you?"

It was hard to say, but Dany refused to allow doubt to creep in. "I trust him."

"Good," Arianne smiled. "He's probably the most trustworthy person I've ever met. His honor knows no bound."

Dany heard the undertone. "But?"

Arianne smiled. "But his honor will get him killed."

Most men that lived honorably usually found themselves dying because of it. Her brother had died on the trident, many of her ancestors died horrible ways, and even Ser Barristan, the most honorable man she knows, had almost suffered the same fate. There was a destiny for honor, and it was not a happy one.

"He makes his own choices," Dany tried to reason.

Smile dropped, Arianne glared. "Do wish to see him dead? Because if he goes, will never see him again."

"Do you not trust his ability to survive?" Dany asked. "Believe me I've seen it."

"As have I, but one sword cannot save him from an army. Regardless of how good he is. If he goes north looking for Sansa Stark, then it's over."

"This is his decision," Dany pressed. Regardless of is she agreed was pointless. She'd given her word, and refused to go back on it.

"You can stop this."

"I can."

"But you won't."

Dany nodded. "If you care for him so much, why not stop him yourself."

"Against my better judgment I have to agree," Arianne admitted. "I do care for him, far more then I ever expected. Quite honestly it's infuriating how many times he's refused me, but I suppose that's what keeps reeling me in. He challenges me in so many ways, and always for the better. Yet he's not in love with me, so whatever I say or do, he'll continue to do what he thinks best. Orin is a simple man, and sometimes the world is a bit more complicated then it appears."

Dany's eyes hardened as the princess stepped away from her. So many things raced through her head as she tried to process it all. It was painful to hear someone's unattainable love, even on someone like princess Arianne, but Dany could not force Orin to stay, or to be with her.

"Your grace." Dany looked up, meeting Arianne's eyes one last time. "I don't know you well enough to ask you to go against your word, but you can stop him, I know you can. Don't let him die for nothing."

* * *

It'd be strange not to wake to the familiar site of the room he'd called home for many weeks. Meereen had been a strange city, but ever since Orin had left Starfall, it'd been the safest place for him. It was funny to think that living under the eye of a Targaryen was considered safe, but the truth was in many ways surprising most of the time.

Daenerys had become an alley and with it, he'd gotten the resources needed to travel back home. It was a difficult request letting the only bargaining chip she had with the north walk away, but Orin knew he meant more then just leverage. She trusted him, as he did her, and that trust had given him the freedom to do what was needed.

It still hadn't sunk in that Sansa was still alive somewhere. The moment he'd woken on that ship sailing towards Essos with Conin, in the back of his mind he always thought she'd been dead. Her strength was unmatched, but how far could a girl with no allies possibly go?

Orin was glad he was wrong, yet it still didn't make him feel any less guilty about how he stopped searching for her. Trapped away with the Boltons, most probably tormented as well, all the while Orin sat in this room doing nothing.

Failure started to creep into his mind as he eyed his sword atop the bed. Remembering all the pain and suffering he endured to get here, Orin grabbed hold of the sword, and hardened his face.

His failure ended here.

Giving one last look at the room, Orin smiled faintly before joining Ser Barristan out in the hall. The knight had become his closest alley in this city, something Orin had been grateful for. It was easy to get lost in the fact that he walked alongside a great knight, but now he just considered him a good man. Perhaps even a friend.

"I never got the chance to thank you," Ser Barristan began, leading him outside the pyramid. Orin wondered what the man was talking about. "Saving the queen."

"She had her personal guard defending her," Orin argued. "And many unsullied patrolling the streets searching as well. The queen was well protected."

Ser Barristan smiled. "There are moments I look at you and only see your father. You have your mother's eyes but everything else is your father. Yet moments like this, all I hear is Arthur. I never thought it possible to meet a more humble man, yet each encounter that passes between us, your humility continues to astound me."

Orin took the kind words to heart. All his life he'd dreamt about being half the man his uncle was, knowing it was an almost impossible feat. The greatest swordsman, the most honorable knight, and a genuine person, three qualities off a list of many that Orin envied.

"That means a great deal coming from you," Orin said truthfully.

The two continued through the streets towards the port where Orin's ship was waiting. It didn't take long for the queen to find a suitable crew to head towards Westeros. He'd been grateful for the help, and even more so at the haste she used to conjure up enough men on such short notice. Even in matters that didn't concern her, the queen still managed to surprise him.

Perhaps the most surprising thing was a familiar sight boarding the ship as part of the crew. Orin didn't know Ser Jorah personally, as they had yet to speak, but they had stood together with the queen during her meeting with the masters. All Orin knew was a brief history of the knight's exile after he'd asked Tyrion what the man meant to the queen.

A flattering sight greeted him as he made his way towards the dock where the ship he'd sail on began to board. The queen's party stood nearby awaiting him like he was some great hero off to save the day. It felt rather embarrassing to have such an audience, but he appreciated the gesture.

Daenerys stood with Tyrion and Daario on each side of her, with Varys off to Tyrion's other shoulder. Both Missandei and Greyworm were absent, the unsullied probably watching over the woman he cared for as she nursed her injured leg. Even Arianne stood nearby, although surrounded by her own guard and clearly away from the queen's party.

Orin was almost sad to go; curious as to how the dynamic between the queen and the princess would play out. Both were set on their own ways, both hard headed at times, and both willing to speak their minds. He was sure tension would arise in the coming weeks between the two powerful women.

Ser Barristan soon joined them; leaving Orin standing across from the people he'd never thought he'd call allies. It was a strange group, each with different ideologies, each there own horrid past, all brought together for one purpose.

Arianne was first to greet him as she quickly stepped forward surprising him with a warm hug. He held her back tight, relishing the moment of having her in his arms.

"Be safe," She whispered into his neck.

"Always."

Orin pulled away before it got to difficult for him to leave. Varys and Tyrion were the next two to smile at him as he approached. Even without a Targaryen to complicate things, Orin never imagined being friendly with a Lannister and the master of whispers. One's family was responsible for his mother's death; the other watched his father die.

Offering his hand, Orin smiled at Varys startled look. "If I get to her in time, its because of you."

"You've survived this far, as has she," Varys smiled as he gripped his hand. "I imagine you'll both continue to do so."

"He's right," Tyrion interjected. Turning to small man, Orin offered him his hand as well. "Do you ever get tired?"

"Of?" He asked a bit confused.

"Doing the right thing?" Tyrion asked with a smile. He turned towards Ser Barristan before looking back at him. "I think if you do manage to save my beloved wife, a knighthood will be waiting for you."

"I'll do the honor myself right here and now," Barristan offered with a gentle smile.

"Ser Orin the righteous," Tyrion announced, looking around for approval. "Rolls off the tongue nicely doesn't it?"

Orin was flattered at the idea, but shook his head. "Perhaps in another life."

The hardest farewell shouldn't have been the queen but as Orin turned towards her, he knew it would be. It was so foreign for him to stare at someone he hardly knew and feel so conflicted about leaving. She was nothing to him, a stranger, but overtime she became so much more.

He didn't know what would come of it, but as the queen looked up at him, a small smile across her face, he didn't care. It might be the last time he ever saw her, and he didn't want to have doubts and conflicts in his head.

Unsure what to do, Orin held his hand out. He wasn't sure what the custom in Essos was, or how you properly said goodbye to a Queen, but he expected this was the best next thing rather then kneeling.

Taking his hand, Dany shook it. "Goodbye…Lord Stark. I expect if you succeed will see each other again."

"If I succeed…"

"You will," Dany stopped any notion of failure.

Giving in to her look, Orin smiled gently, a strange feeling pass over him. "Farewell your grace."

Sharing one last smile, Orin boarded the ship without another look, and prepared himself for the fight to come.


	38. Chapter 37

**Happy Thanksgiving to those celebrating today!**

* * *

Chapter 37

Almost a fortnight after he'd left the queen, Orin found himself heading towards Braavos, the northern most tip of Essos. It almost seemed like a lifetime ago, but here he was, once again traveling with a knight.

He still thought of Conin every night before he slept. It pained him thinking his body was rotting away in the sea because of a pirate. Orin didn't know when, but one day he'd find the man responsible, and finish what he started. Conin deserved better, and he'd get it.

His traveling partner, Jorah, reminded him of Conin everyday since they began the long journey west. Both good men deep down, and each day that passed Orin saw a bit more of Conin in Jorah. He hated comparing the men, knowing it wasn't fair to either of them, but he couldn't help himself.

Orin had learned a great deal about the man's past since they left Meereen and it was a long one to contemplate. How was it possible one man could do so much in one lifetime? Rendal had mentioned a Mormont brought dishonor to their house, but never did Orin think to meet the man responsible. Between fighting at the siege of Pyke, joining the Golden Company as a sell sword, and finally becoming the closest alley and friend to Daenerys Targaryen. The man was no short of fascinating stories.

Regardless of whom Orin saw in the knight, he was glad to not have been alone on the journey back west. It was an unfortunate one for Jorah, he knew, but still Orin was glad to have him. Yet, the knight wanted to be back with his queen, serving by her side, and each day Orin saw it in the man's eyes. Even today, as they approached Braavos, Orin could see the faraway distant look as Jorah eyed the city.

"Incredible thing to see," Orin began. Both their eyes were glued to the Titan of Braavos as the giant statue loomed over them.

"I haven't been this far west in a long time," Jorah mumbled.

All the time he'd spent with Jorah, Orin realized he'd never once asked why the man was serving Daenerys in Essos all this time. A northern lord serving under a forgotten family was quite the mystery.

"You never told me." Seeing Jorah's questioning glance, Orin elaborated. "Why you're here? Why you left Westeros?"

Jorah eyed him hard. "Ned Stark wanted me dead for crimes I committed."

Taken slightly aback, Orin wondered what the knight could do to deserve that sort of punishment. "Was he in the right?"

Smiling sadly, Jorah nodded. "He was. A life time of trying to do right and I'm remembered by one terrible choice."

"A year ago I would have believed you," Orin mused. "Now I'm not so sure. Your terrible choice led you here, helping the queen, freeing thousands from slavery. Seems like you more then made up for it."

"So you believe one good act washes away the bad?"

"I believe it isn't up to me to decide any more," Orin admitted. It was a hard truth, but one he had to come to realize. "If we all paid for our crimes, we'd be dead, the both of us. Yet I've seen evil Ser Jorah, truly terrible men. So have you. Terrible men do not question whether or not what they're doing is right or wrong. We're still here because we can tell the difference."

"I can't imagine any crimes you'd commit." Jorah hadn't known Orin long, but he trusted his eyes, and he knew what he'd seen. "Have you ever sold men into slavery?"

"Can't say that I have," Orin answered. Thinking back to the feeling he had when he killed those who wronged him, he nearly shuttered. "But I've done things. Felt things. Things I know my mother would surely be disappointed in."

Jorah caught the distant look in his eyes. "Tyrion mentioned what happened to your mother. I'm sorry."

"So am I," Orin was still haunted by her dead violet eyes. "She deserved better then that."

"I have no doubt the queen will have the Lannisters pay for their crimes," Jorah assured.

"I'm sure she will," Orin agreed. "But the dead still remain dead."

"As long as more don't follow, that's the best we can do," Jorah smiled gently. Hearing the Captains shouts from behind, he stood from his hunched position and turned to Orin. "I suppose this is goodbye?"

Remembering where their journeys took them, Orin smiled kindly at the man. "I suppose it is. I hope you find that cure, I imagine disappointing your queen isn't something you wish to do."

"No it's not," Jorah smiled. He thought about holding his hand out but thought against it. "Thank you, for protecting her. It must have been difficult doing knowing your families past."

"We still have the right choices to make," Orin reminded, remembering the day he first met Daenerys. Listening to the men aboard start to disembark, Orin took a step towards them. "Farewell Ser Jorah, perhaps I'll see you in the north one day."

"I'm outlawed," Jorah reminded.

"Not anymore," Orin smiled. "I'm a Stark remember."

"Something I still find hard to believe."

That was something many had in common. "It wasn't easy to accept I assure you."

"The name or the tragic past that came with it?"

"Both."

Jorah smiled sadly at him. "As a man who's forgotten by his own name and lost his father tragically as well, I can understand the burden that comes with both."

It was strange to find a man able to relate with Orin halfway across the world. They didn't know each other well, probably didn't trust one another, but here in this moment as strangers, they could be as candid as possible, knowing they may never see each other again.

"You lost your father as well?" Orin asked slowly.

The knight looked back towards the sea as he spoke. "Very recently. My father was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch for many years. He served the realm for the greater good and he was betrayed by his own men for it."

"I'm sorry."

"As am I." Jorah turned back to him.

The mention of the Night's Watch had Orin remembering something Tyrion had said before he'd left. "Hopefully those men are gone. If Sansa truly is out there and heading towards her brother, Castle Black might not be as safe as I'd hoped."

Only time would tell for Orin as he turned towards the shore of the city. Castle Black was long way off, and the journey there would be a hard one. All he could do was hope that by the end of it Sana would be there, and hopefully alive. It was a long risk, like most of the choices he'd made since he left Starfall, but it was a risk he was willing to take.

* * *

It felt good to once again walk the streets of a city hearing the familiar sound of the common tongue. As fascinating as Mereen was, Orin appreciated that he could once again understand what people were saying. It was difficult to walk around with no knowledge of the words being used. It made him feel that much more foreign in an already mysterious land.

Thankfully Braavos was different, and he could once again relax.

Slowly walking around the docks, Orin had already booked passage to White Harbor, giving him a bit of time to think. He'd contemplated sailing back to Dorne to get help but thought against it. He wasn't sure what to expect in the north and the last thing he wanted was men dying for a lost cause. No, if he got to Sansa, he'd have to do it alone.

Still, he didn't know the north all to well and trying to sneak around the lands wouldn't come easy. It's why he found himself in a tavern by the docks, hoping for a bit of luck. In his experience back home, men loved to talk, especially when they were drunk. Hopefully there was a tale or two about what he could expect in the fights to come.

Taking a seat, Orin quickly signaled for a glass and listened. They were loud, almost too loud to hear anything specific, but Orin caught wind of something particular from a group of the closest men.

There were 3 of them, dressed in sea garb, looking like they spent the better part of the year on a ship. Merchants or pirates, Orin didn't care, he just listened as they spoke of Winterfell.

"Hear he got himself and those who followed him killed," The larger of the three men said. "Blackwater, now Winterfell, all Stannis Baratheon ever did was lose apparently."

"And Salladhor?" Another asked.

"Don't know," The man answered. "My best bet, fucker ran before the Boltons attacked. He's a pirate, not a soldier. No man wants to get flayed for a losing cause."

Stannis Baratheon attacking Winterfell couldn't have meant anything good for Sansa. A battle outside the walls of Winterfell meant many people had perished. Even if he was defeated, Orin prayed that Sansa was far away from the battle when Stannis attacked the castle.

Turning back to his drink, he noticed the barkeep eyeing him.

"You a northerner?" He asked.

Orin watched the man who was far too old to be dealing with a tavern. "No."

"You look like one." Gesturing towards the many people around him, he continued. "Been having my fair share of northerners recently. North's a mess, coming here to make the free cities one too."

"I'm not looking for trouble," Orin stressed.

Smiling, the man passed him another glass. "In my experience, trouble usually comes looking for you."

A quick nod was all he gave before leaving Orin to ponder his thoughts. The north must have been in shambles if it was giving northerners an excuse to leave their lands behind. Perhaps saving Sansa wasn't enough. Leaving the place that Robb sought to defend, the lands that his father and all the other Starks called home, in the hands of the Boltons wasn't right. He wondered how much fear they inflicted for the other houses to refuse to ban together and over throw them.

Fear was a powerful force that crippled even the bravest men, but Orin was a firm believer that it was better to die for something then cower in fear for nothing. The Boltons used fear to get where they are, but if Orin learned anything from his time in Meereen, it was that once that fear turned into a pattern, the people would revolt. The smallest taste at a better life gave thousands of former slaves the courage to face their fear. If the northern lords couldn't do the same, then the north was lost.

Taking a much-needed sip, Orin downed the second glass of ale. He never enjoyed the taste, but he could appreciate the feeling it gave him. A chance to forget everything felt good, even if he needed a lot more ale then this to forget his problems.

Signaling the barkeep for another round across the bar, Orin's eyes fell on a man who was trying his best to remain calm. He sat alone, drink in hand, staring up at a girl who must have been giving him a hard time.

Trying his best to drown out the other noises, Orin couldn't grasp a single word either was saying. All he could do was watch as the girl tossed a sack onto the table, the man's eyes widening, before the girl tossed a second.

Orin would have laughed at the man's face, but was thrown when the girl quickly grabbed the bags and turned to leave. She hadn't seen him, but he saw her. Even after many years since they met, Orin would never forget her face. The clothes could hide the body, the odd hair and dirt could confuse his eyes, but Orin could never forget the look of the girl's eyes.

Halfway across the world, Arya Stark stood only just a few feet away.


	39. Chapter 38

**Jgs237: Yes, there will be a few Meereen scenes, not many, but some every now and then.**

 **SophaiaWasTaken: Read on to find out!**

 **EXOKaiKokoBop: Well a key difference between Jon and Orin is that Orin's already met Dany, so not seeing Dany till 'season 7' is quite a different time frame. For Jon it'll be the first time him and Dany meet, whereas Orin it'll be 'hey we saw each other a month, two months, 6 months, etc… ago'. Also, I thought it'd be best for Orin to establish relationships with the characters in the north rather then meet them with Dany for the first time. Hopefully it plays out in a way you enjoy! If not, terribly sorry.**

 **Intemperance24: Thank you for the kind comments, and sorry it took so long (too long), for the next chapter.**

 **Guest: Not sure if you're the same person or four different guests, or maybe two, but thanks for the comments and I can say with about 99.9% that Orin will not become King in the North. Sorry if that's the opposite of what you were hoping for lol.**

 **To everyone else, I'm so sorry that it took so long for the update. Life get's kind of crazy and then you're one week behind, then two, then three, and then you wake up and it's two months. I want to thank those who have stuck with it, and hope to continue to do so. In a perfect world I'd update everyday, but unfortunately, we do not live in one yet. Sorry again and hope you continue to read the story. Also, to all the new favs and followers of the story, appreciate it!**

* * *

Chapter 38

Orin's eyes froze as he took her in. She'd gotten taller, her hair shorter, and the innocence that she once held was long forgotten, but she was still Arya. He remembered her wild eyes and unique features. It wasn't someone he'd soon forget.

Almost forgetting that she was long thought dead, Orin stood as he watched her leave. He wasn't sure what did it, but he watched as she turned and finally made eye contact with her. Her hard features betrayed her as her eyes widened at the sight of him.

Every part of him yelled to call out for her but it was too late. Her body jerked and she sprinted out the tavern and away from him.

"ARYA!" Orin yelled, giving chase.

Nearly knocking a few men down on his way out the tavern, Orin caught sight of her sprinting down the road. Finding his legs, he gave chase. The people around them didn't bother to pay any attention as he ran down the road cutting through passing bystanders.

The faster he ran the more people seemed to appear. He could hardly keep up with the young girl, as it seemed she knew the city far better then he ever would. Turning on corners he never saw coming, Orin nearly lost sight of her as she jumped high onto a ledge and climbed her way above it and onto a bridge.

Orin was sure she looked down at him for the briefest moment, but couldn't be sure. All he thought of was how to make it onto the road above him. Catching sight of a nearby stairs, Orin quickly ran and made his way up the steps and onto the road Arya had taken.

Completely disappeared, Arya's only way to go was forward.

Once again Orin took off, his pace slower then before as he had to take in every face around him. Strangers paid him no attention as he eyed them.

Soon he began to tire as he reached a massive market flowing with people. He tried his best, even turning people around to look at him, but it was no use, she was gone. The one Stark he'd never thought to find, inches away, and he'd lost her in minutes.

"For fucks sake," Orin cursed, continuing down the road.

Turning a corner to get away from the mob, Orin found himself inside an empty alleyway. Once again he tasted defeat as he collapsed to the ground. Not even the gods could be this cruel for him to come so close to finding Arya Stark.

Laughing at his misfortune, Orin rested his head against the wall to look up to the sky. It was a peaceful moment as he closed his eyes and just relaxed. Maybe Arya had been better off; all he seemed to do was get people killed.

Opening his eyes, he half expected to be dead as he saw Arya atop a balcony above him, jumping down, sword in hand.

Quickly rolling away, the girl's sword poked where his head had been as he stood to face her. No words came out of his mouth as she sprung to attack him. No time to draw his own weapon, Orin did his best to dodge each swing before she caught his upper arm.

Flinching in pain, Orin eyed her. "Arya stop!"

The girl said nothing as she once again spun her tiny sword and attacked.

This time ready, Orin drew Dawn, stopping the blade from poking his chest. It almost seemed like a disadvantage with her small sword but the girl kept coming as Orin defended.

Whatever her teacher had taught her back in Kings Landing definitely worked, as Orin was mildly impressed at her attacks. He would have commentated had she not been trying to kill him.

Refusing to fight back, Orin blocked another attack before Arya somersaulted around him. The blade danced around him as he turned to meet her but was swiftly cut behind the calf.

Falling in pain, Orin looked up with hard eyes as he was met with her sword pointed at his face. It was a cruel way to go, in some alley in Braavos by his own kin, but he half expected his death would be a disappointment.

"Go on, do it," Orin whispered.

"I remember you." Her voice was cold and commanding as she refused to lower her sword. "Your Arthur Dayne's nephew."

"Orin," He reminded her.

"Are you here to kill me?" She asked suddenly. "Is that why you chased me?"

"No."

Her eyes betrayed her coldness as she continued. "Then why did you follow me?"

"To help you," Orin said truthfully.

"Does it look like I need help?"

Smiling at his predicament, Orin shook his head. "No. I guess you are quick."

Arya froze slightly, remembering their brief conversation in Kings Landing all those years ago. "Why shouldn't I kill you now?"

Holding his breath, Orin hoped the truth would work. "Because we're family."

The words felt strange as he said them, knowing all his family had been dead for quite sometime. Yet watching the difficulty pass through Arya's face, Orin knew it was the truth. As of now, the only thing he had in this life that was certain was her.

Seeing the frustration on her face, Orin slowly closed his eyes, waiting for death. It wasn't the Lannisters who'd kill him, or slavers and pirates, or not even the last Targaryen, but his own family. He understood why he'd die, as he braced himself for it.

Seconds past and still nothing had happened. Opening his eyes, he was ready for her to just get on with it, but was met with a weaponless Arya. She stood, sword tucked away neatly as she regarded him.

"Don't plan on killing me?" Orin mumbled. The pain in his leg started to burn as he rose gently.

"What do you mean we're family!" Arya demanded. She didn't trust the man, but she how to separate a lie from the truth.

"My name is Orin Stark, I'm Brandon Starks son," Orin explained. He didn't give her much attention as he rested against the cold wall hoping to catch his breath. "Our fathers were brothers."

"My uncle had no children," Arya countered.

"I thought so too," Orin agreed.

Regarding him closely, Arya used every instinct she had and learned to figure out if he were lying or not. She'd learned a great deal from the faceless men, so either he was a terrific liar, or he spoke the truth.

"You're a very good liar," Arya complimented.

Smiling Orin nodded. "If it were only that simple. One big lie. I imagine I wouldn't be here if it had been a lie."

Realizing where they were, Arya pressed on the matter. "Why are you here? In Essos?"

"Stupid mistakes on my part," Orin admitted. Thinking back on his plan, he should have known it never would have worked. "It didn't exactly go as planned. I hoped to find help in getting back the north."

"You want the north for yourself?" Arya asked, her anger rising.

"That's one burden I can do without." How was it possible that people still believed that he could be so cunning? Not everyone wanted to be a Lord of something. "I promised your brother and mother I'd protect your sister. I failed them. The least I could do was chase the rats out of the place they called home."

"You meant to kill the Boltons?"

Orin heard her interest peak as he nodded. "And the Lannisters, and the Frey's, and whatever else shit house were responsible for my family's murder. For your family's too."

Arya looked around. "You have no army."

"No not at the moment."

"You have no allies."

"None that can help right now."

"And you still plan on seeing them dead?"

Thinking about the smiling faces of all those who wronged him, Orin knew he only had one choice. "Yes."

"I don't trust you." Looking up, Orin watched as Arya approached him, a small smile on her face. "But will do it together."

* * *

"You're watching me."

Orin smiled as he rested on his cot. The ship towards White Harbor had set sail almost two days ago and he'd managed to book passage for Arya as well. The two had spent most of their time in their courters, which they shared.

Arya said very little, Orin the same, spending their time thinking about what was to come. Still, with everything on his mind, Orin's eyes never left the youngest Stark, thinking one quick look and she'd be gone.

"I am." Orin answered. He watched her eyes rise from her sword she'd been cleaning to glare at him. "Does it bother you?"

"Do you need something?" Arya asked.

"I never thought I'd see another Stark again," Orin explained. "I know I'm not your true family, but you're the closest thing I have to one. I risked everything trying to know what it meant to be a Stark, and I lost it all. Can't very well lose you as well."

Arya's face remained hard. "I can protect myself."

"I know you can," Orin smiled. He could still feel the pain on the cut on his leg. "But I made a promise to your mother to get her daughter to safety. I didn't expect to find you, but I can still make good on that promise."

Giving the privacy she needed, Orin turned away, leaving her to her sword. It must have been strange for her, as it was for him, but the truth was they were all they had to each other. Whether or not Arya accepted him as family meant nothing right now, just as long as he kept her safe, even if she was clearly annoyed with it.

Taking the time to relax, Orin pulled out his own sword and joined her in cleaning. Still as sharp as the day it was forged, Dawn's beauty was still a marvel to look at, even after so long.

"I guess Joffrey was right." Orin looked up to see Arya watching him. "That's Ser Arthur Dayne's sword."

Orin eyes never left Dawn's pale milk blade. "My mother entrusted this to me before she died. It's the last thing I have of her."

"My brother Jon gifted me this sword," Arya explained, holding out the skinny sword. "I named it needle."

"Unique name," Orin smiled.

Arya nodded before looking back down. He could tell she wanted to say more but thought against it. It was still odd for her to see him as anything but a stranger. Hopefully the trip to White Harbor would end that. They'd needed trust if they hoped to succeed.

"Are you sure she's out there?" Arya spoke up. "Sansa?"

Hoping Varys information was right, Orin nodded. "The person who told me prides himself on knowledge. She's somewhere, I truly believe that."

"I heard she killed Joffrey, with the imps help," Arya mused.

Shaking his head, Orin laughed. "There was a time even I was a suspect."

"You were there?" Arya's eyes widen at the prospect. "Did you do it?"

"I should have," One of his deepest regrets would be not killing the king. "But someone did, and I thank them for it."

"I wish it were me."

Orin noticed Arya's change in mood. "What happened to you?"

Quietly resting needle against her cot, Arya laid her head down, avoiding his gaze. "I grew up."

As hard as it was for him, Orin couldn't imagine what Arya had gone through in the years since he'd last seen her. All her family gone, taken from her, and left alone to survive without any allies this entire time. Whatever horrors came to him, Orin knew that Arya had suffered the same, if not more.

"I was there," Arya whispered. The two of them lay resting, both still awake, both staring at the empty ceiling of the ship. "When my father died. When my mother and Robb died. Death follows me."

"You were at the Twins?"

Of course the missing Stark daughter would be moments away from reuniting with her family after captivity. The gods laughed down at the Starks, and those associated with them and the joke never seemed to end.

Arya nodded slowly. "I was. I saw them mutilate Robb's body. I saw the laughs of those who betrayed my family."

"I'm sorry you had to see that. They deserved better," Orin heard the grief in her voice. "My mother died in my arms, and the only father I had growing up was murdered right in front of me. The people I love most, and I failed to protect them. I understand your grief, believe me, if even for only that."

"I'm tired of losing," Arya admitted.

Smiling sadly, Orin agreed. "So am I."

The sway of the ship had both close to rest as neither spoke. It was a long journey home, especially when you spent most the time doubting yourself, yet he wouldn't torment himself any longer. Orin had learned a great deal in Meereen, specifically from Daenerys, and knew that his failures ended the moment he woke inside the great pyramid that very day.

"We only have one option."

Lifting his head, Orin glanced towards his cabin mate, surprised to hear her awake. "And what's that?"

Arya refused to move as she spoke. "Kill everyone whose caused us harm."

The list was long, perhaps too long, but as Orin closed his eyes, he knew Arya was right. The pain in his heart didn't stop when he killed his mother's murderer, as he knew deep down that the people truly responsible still lived. There was always an enemy, and right now it was just he and Arya against them all. Putting aside the distrust between the two, which was quite a lot, Orin knew the battle they'd come to face would be nearly impossible, but they'd come to far to fail now.

His enemies would face justice, all of them, there was no other way.


	40. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

Orin had hoped the moment he saw land he'd feel at home. Essos had been many things, but never did it feel like Westeros to him. Yet seeing as how he'd never been this far north, the land was still foreign.

As they approached on boat, the moment Orin stepped foot on the deck, he felt the cold winter breeze. The Stark's words 'Winter is Coming', ran through his head as he witnessed it.

Beside him, watching as they approached, Arya stood silent. She'd gotten a little more comfortable during the trip, but still, he could see the hesitancy in her eyes. Words meant very little to her when it came to her family. In her eyes, he was still a stranger, speaking madness about their common name. It was easy for her to be distrustful, but for the most part, she hadn't completely shut him out.

Her journey was still clouded in mystery as she'd yet to give away any information as to why he'd found her in Braavos. Between her surprising escape from Kings Landing, her shocking details of Robb's death, and the scene that unfolded in the tavern in Braavos, Orin sometimes felt he traveled alongside a stranger.

The girl Arya was when he first met her all those years ago was long gone, replaced with something harsher, something more cynical. It wasn't fair to her for him to judge; as he understood the road to survive was a harsh one. It was not luck that kept Arya Stark alive. She was a fighter, like him, and in her eyes, he must have changed as well.

Seeing the unfamiliar sights of White Harbor, Orin turned to Arya. "Are you sure someone will not recognize you?"

"Perhaps," Arya confirmed, but turned to him with a knowing smile. "I haven't been to White Harbor since I was a young girl. Things have changed."

"Everything's changed," Orin whispered. Looking back at the city, his gaze hardened. "What do you know of the Manderly's? Can they be trusted?"

Arya shook her head. "No one can be trusted here. Not when the Boltons rule."

It was easy to assume that, but Orin had heard differently inside the tavern in Braavos. "Not all the Lords in the North have sided with the Boltons. Roose Bolton may rule, but he is struggling in keeping the north together. Most northerners rather abandon their home then live under Bolton's watchful eye."

"That doesn't mean we can trust them," Arya argued.

Orin smiled at her hesitancy. "We aren't so well suited that we can turn away help. Trust or not, will need someone to point us in the right direction for your sister."

"Castle Black is only one way," Arya eyed the incoming city with hard eyes. "North."

"Regardless, will need help."

Clearly annoyed at his constant pressure, Arya glared his way. "I don't believe I agreed to those terms. Whether or not you are who you say you are, it doesn't mean you understand the north. I watched northerners turn on my brother, their king, like savages. If you agree to a truce with both eyes closed, I can assure you you'll be sorry with the outcome."

"Is that what Robb did?" Orin asked. "Did he place too much blind trust in his own men?"

Turning her back towards him, Arya shrugged. "Trust is a fickle thing. Robb trusted his men, but in the end they never trusted him."

"So it's better to never trust again?"

Arya hesitated.

Her doubt was justified, but Orin hoped deep down there was still a piece of humanity left in the girl. She was far too young, and far too smart to be this cold so soon. Life had been tough for the both of them, but whereas Orin took a great chance trusting those most wouldn't, Arya turned her back on the world.

It was foolish to think trusting anyone would be wise. Orin easily could have been burned alive had Daenerys turned out to be more like her father. Yet the chance to trust someone was a choice, and the way Arya spoke, her mind was made up every single chance.

"Best get are things," Arya answered quietly, before disappearing below deck.

Sighing in defeat, Orin turned back to the harbor and took in the cold breeze.

* * *

It'd been over a month since the attack on the city, and since then, there'd yet to be a sign of the Sons of Harpy. With three large dragons looming above with watchful eyes, Daenerys seemed to have found the balance between peace and justice.

For the most part.

Punishing those responsible had been daunting, but she did her duty as Queen and made sure the safety of her people would never be in jeopardy again. It wasn't easy, like most things in her life, but the end result had been one of the most rewarding things she ever accomplished. To see the happiness on the former slaves was nothing short of a blessing, and she hoped to have the strength and resolve to continue to fulfill her promises.

Thankfully she had plenty of help around her.

As much as the princess of Dorne may have bothered her, Arianne Martell and the other Lords from Dorne had been great help. The added men for patrols were quite the luxury and the fear of the Dornish fleet seemed to have quite the effect as well. It wasn't the Iron Fleet, but still it was enough.

Still, times like this, when Dany sat alone with the princess as her guest very late at night, she almost wished that any other house had sailed that day during the siege on the pyramid.

"Once again I have nothing to pass on about the whereabouts of Lord Stark," Dany stressed tiredly.

The routine had become quite taxing on her. Every night, an armed escort and the princess would join Dany and they'd ask if any news on Orin Starks journey north had come in. There hadn't been a definitive answer as to if Orin would let either of them know his current whereabouts, but clearly the princess had hoped he'd find the time.

"Why do you say it like that?" Arianne asked, a little annoyed. She too was finding it hard not to get annoyed with her new queen. "Lord Stark? His name is Orin, and he's from Dorne, not the North. He's more a Dayne then a Stark."

"I am Queen, but even I do not hold the power to decide what a man chooses to go by."

Arianne rolled her eyes. "No, you only decide on sending them away to certain death."

Ignoring the insult, Dany's grip tightened. "It seems it is a recurring theme for people from Dorne to question my ability to lead, and usually with an ignorant tone. Your friend was quite the handful."

"Dornish tend to speak their mind," Arianne explained with a smile. It brought her great joy that Orin spoke to the queen as if she were the enemy, for a time. "You'll find we have no great love for the other kingdoms over time."

"I do hope that hatred does not extend to my niece."

Both turned towards the intrusion to see Tyrion walk in without hesitancy to join them. Dany hadn't seen either Tyrion or the princess converse much since the Dornish fleet arrived, and she expected that was for the best. Between Lannister, Targaryen, Stark, and Martell, there were too many rivalries inside her ranks.

"Princess Marcella is quite safe I assure you," Arianne answered.

Remembering the apparent hostage the Martells had, Dany turned towards Tyrion. "I don't suppose Cersei would give up her forces in Kings Landing to reunite with her daughter?"

Tyrion juggled the idea before shaking his head. "Her love for her children is fierce, but even Cersei cannot look weak in front of the country. For now Marcella is a prisoner of war, although I do hate referring to her as that. Perhaps a guest under our protection is better suited."

"Prisoner or not, she'll soon be my sister by law," Arianne explained. "We cannot trade her, not when my brother intends to marry her. Although moving her wouldn't be the worst idea."

The slight comment didn't go unnoticed by Tyrion. "How do you mean?"

Arianne eyed both he queen and her advisor before relenting. "There was an incident in the gardens. A few of my cousins tried to seize the princess in retaliation for Oberyn's death."

"Is she hurt?" Tyrion asked quietly.

"No," Arianne answered. Smiling, she knew how this next part would play out. "Thankfully your brother was there to protect her."

"Jaime?"

"The man who murdered my father," Dany corrected. She understood her father was a cruel man, but Jaime Lannister still did betray his king's trust and command. "I did not realize you had the Kingslayer captive as well."

"We don't."

Tired from the lack of cooperation, Dany glared.

"It's a long story," Arianne began. Without another word, the princess rose gracefully, before she smiled. "I'm sure you have many things to discuss with your advisor your grace. Please send word if you hear from Orin."

The two watched the princess leave quietly before turning to one another. As unlikely as their alliance was, Dany and Tyrion both agreed that the princess of Dorne was quite the unusual woman. Her trust was still a mystery to both, and because of that, they were extremely cautious when discussing their plan of attack.

"We can't avoid her forever," Tyrion offered gently. Even a drunken fool could see the tension between the two leaders. "Eventually she'll have to be in the fold."

"Unfortunately I agree," Dany admitted. Still, it would be simpler without the princess on her case every day. "Or perhaps I could show her my dragons as a sign of trust, and see what happens."

Eyes wide, Dany almost choked back a laugh at Tyrion's face. "Your grace?"

"A joke," Dany explained. Clearly humor was better suited for her newest ally. "A poor one I suppose."

"A rarity in a leader, most are always so serious."

Thinking back to all she'd done till this point, Dany knew what side of the spectrum she stood on. "Most do not last very long. I intend to make sure that does not happen to me."

"Well eliminating stubborn Lord and Ladies is something many Kings have done."

The stories of her father slowly crept into her head as she thought of Arianne. "The princess is safe. No harm will come to her because of my feelings towards her. I will not let hate decide how I rule."

"Very wise."

Dany smiled lightly towards Tyrion before looking into the flames of the candle nearby. "Besides, I expect Lord Stark would be quite shocked to know his _old_ _friend_ isn't by my side when the time comes."

"I don't imagine will ever see the poor boy again."

Tyrion's words had Dany turn swiftly, her eyes hard. "How do you mean?"

"The Boltons slaughtered his remaining family during a wedding," Tyrion explained slowly. The words were hard to muster, the act repulsive to even Tyrion. "What Orin is heading towards…it's a fight he may not win."

Dany couldn't imagine a crueler fate then Orin Stark dying and not getting the justice his family deserved. The way the Starks and his mother died, it wasn't something Dany wished upon anyone. He'd suffered, far more then he deserved, and Dany hoped one day he'd find the justice he needed.

"Will see him again, I know it."

Tyrion smiled. "You sound quite sure."

Refusing to play this childish game, Dany looked away, back towards the comfort of the flames. "I am."

* * *

The chill in the air was unlike anything Orin had ever felt before even as he sat inside the confides of a local tavern. White Harbor was the biggest city in the North, and one of the most populated, but as Orin sat remembering the careful walk from the harbor towards the city, the lack of people was quite evident.

Maybe it was the cold, or perhaps the newly appointed Warden of the North, but the charm of White harbor was clearly absent. Orin knew very little of the place, but the little he had heard was that it was quite a beautiful place to visit.

Unfortunately as he and Arya sat inside debating their next move, he knew he'd get very little chance in sight seeing.

"The Kingsroad is far too dangerous for us to travel, which leaves very little on ways to make it towards the wall without difficulty," Orin summarized. Turning towards his companion, he noticed the girls absent stare as she sat across from him. "Are you listening?"

"Shut up!"

The words caught him off guard as he frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Shhh, I'm listening."

Orin had dealt with quite a few headaches along his journey, but he wouldn't deal with Arya's rudeness for much longer. "This banter between us isn't helpful in getting towards your sister."

Smiling, Arya gave him her full attention.

"We might not have to travel all that far. Come on."

Without another word, the girl took off, deeper into the tavern without a second glance. Her confidence was high, almost too high, as Orin quickly kept pace and followed her. Hand by his side, each person they passed, Orin stood ready for any attack from these strangers.

"Repeat what you said."

Joining by her side, Orin eyed the two strangers they stood above as the men sitting down did the same. There wasn't anything distinctive about either, as the two more so blended in seamlessly with everyone else inside the establishment.

"Quit it," Orin warned, not wanting to make a scene.

"Shut it," She answered back, eyes never leaving the two men. "Repeat what you just said."

"And who might you be girl?" One of the men asked.

"Someone curious as to what you were discussing."

Orin half expected the man to spit in defiance, but instead shook his shoulders to his friend and repeated whatever he had said earlier.

"Lord Manderley refused to support either in the coming war," The man said slowly.

The word war left Orin to process what he could be on about. "What war?"

"You're not from the north are you boy?"

Shaking his head, Orin stepped closer. "No. Now what war? Who did Lord Maderley refuse?"

The possibility that Dany had already sent ravens hoping for more support wasn't entirely impossible. Orin knew with Dorne's support, her claim and chance grew that much more in achieving what she wanted. Lords from all over the realm would soon see that her army, with the Dornish, and three large dragons was the only choice.

"Jon Snow and Ramsay Bolton," The man answered.

Orin's eyes widened at the mention of Arya's brother and turned towards her. He could see the confusion clear in her face, and nearly reached out to comfort the girl, but the notion died the moment he saw a woman charge towards him.

Pushing Arya towards the ground, Orin quickly pulled Dawn out while deflecting the powerful attack aimed towards him. His sword clashed loudly against the foreign blade, the sound unlike anything he'd ever heard before.

Stepping back, Orin squared off against what was possibly the largest woman he'd ever seen. Well above most in the bar, she glared hard towards him, sword high and ready. Whatever he'd done, and whoever she was, Orin knew that she wasn't someone to be trifled with.

"I have to be honest," Orin whispered, his eyes watching as many deserted the place around them. "I'm not sure what we're fighting about."

Beside the tall woman, a young man stepped up beside her, his own sword drawn, as he looked back between the two timidly. "My Lady?"

"Not now Pod," The woman glared hard at her companion before turning back towards Orin. "Walk away from the girl, and you'll leave with your life."

Eyes hard, Orin's grip tightened around his hilt as he stepped forward. "I don't think so."

Carefully looking towards Arya's direction, Orin nearly flinched at her current state. She lay motionless on the floor, her eyes shut, as her head must've hit something on his ill-advised decision to push her out of the way.

A loud grunt came from the woman's voice as she leapt forward, her sword swinging down towards his as he deflected it with ease. Her companion, Pod if he remembered, met him as he spun towards the right, and swung at his heals. The younger man's swing was far less aggressive, as Orin quickly pushed back, giving the boy no room to attack.

It felt wrong to kill a man who seemed so unsure as to why they were fighting, that Orin quickly dispatched the boys sword, and swiftly swung the flat of his blade towards the boys head. The metal clashed hard, not enough to worry for blood, but enough that the boy fell like a sack of rocks.

Pleased at his work, Orin briefly took his eyes off the woman, giving her enough time to kick him to the floor as she swung down once more with her blade. Widening his legs, the blade nearly connected between his thighs as he grabbed hold of a handful of dirt and tossed it into her face.

Lewin had taught him that honor rarely won a fight, and imagined his teacher would be quite pleased at the result.

Holding Dawn ready, Orin waited as the woman shouted profanities at her misfortune before staring him down once more. No words came as she swung again towards him. This time ready and willing, the two squared off once more.

Steel clashed all around the walls of the tavern as Orin tried to find a proper way to end this. He would have liked to just disarm his attacker, but found out very quickly that she was far too good for that. For once he wished that someone with no experience would attack him during his quest for justice.

From crazed pirates, to golden masked men, and now giant women. Even his own flesh in blood had nearly killed him in a back alley in Braavos.

"You can't do this forever," Orin breathed hard, deflecting one more attack.

Throwing an unsuspecting punch, the woman smirked as it connected with his face. "I can still do it longer then you."

Even from the floor, Orin did his best to deflect the attack as his head wrung from the vicious punch. Rolling out from another attack, he bounced back towards his feet far quicker then his attacker expected.

She was good, very good, but her armor slowed her as she approached. Kicking out towards a bench, Orin charged afterwards as the girl knocked away the distraction, but not enough time to stop him from colliding head on.

The two tumbled over, swords knocked from both their hands, as Orin collapsed above her, knife in his hand, pressed against her throat.

He could see the anger in her eyes and the way she tried to think of a way out of it. "Don't move. I don't want to kill you, but I will if I have to."

The small hesitancy he gave her was enough for someone to sneak up behind him, and smash a bottle over his head. Orin wasn't sure who the attacker was, but the last thing he saw as he collapsed onto the ground was a large group of men charge inside with swords in their hands.


	41. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

Shifting onto his side, Orin felt a painful sensation shoot through his body as he quickly turned his head back towards its original place. Eyes still closed, he tried to shake off the dizziness he felt as he racked his head as to where he was.

For the briefest moment, there was a small part of him that thought he was still in Meereen. Soon he'd open his eyes, meet the bright light of the strong sun that seemed to never die out over the city, and then visit the queen.

His body betrayed him as he found himself smiling at the thought, thinking nothing would be more pleasant then walking towards the queen, except maybe seeing his mother one last time.

Praying to every god there was, Orin opened his eyes and saw darkness.

Meereen was a distant dream, as was the queen, and he was stuck in reality, wherever that currently was. Focusing his sight, Orin spotted the familiar shape of bars across the room, and knew he was once again locked up.

Chained or bleeding seemed to be the only constant things in his recent time on the road, as the two seemed destined to happen to him wherever he was. He was generally surprised he didn't have permanent damage to his head with the amount of knocks he took.

"Took a nasty hit."

Searching for the voice, Orin met Arya's cool stare as she lied a few yards away leaning against the wall of their cell.

"I don't suppose you saw the person responsible?" Orin wondered out loud.

"It was me."

Turning hard, his head recoiled from the quick pain as he trained his eyes on her. It was difficult to get a read on the young girl as every turn they took she surprised him. It didn't seem impossible to think that she could be responsible for his latest head wound. Trying to recall the events before, Orin remembered the attack in the tavern and realized what had happened.

"Friend of yours?" Orin asked.

"Not really sure," Arya admitted.

Shaking off the discomfort he felt, Orin rose slowly. "Your friend almost killed me."

"You're lucky I did not finish the job."

Once again startled, the voice was replaced with a face, as out of the darkness the large women stepped forward, a glare upon her face. Orin's hand instinctively went towards his waist, but realized all too soon that neither of them was armed.

"Strange luck you have," Orin said. Staring down the woman, he refused to cower at her look. "Last I remember I had a knife at your throat."

"And I had my boot on yours ready to crush it in if it weren't for her!"

It was almost too dark to see, but Orin was sure he saw Arya smile faintly. The trust was still building between them, but if what the large woman said was true, Orin owed Arya a debt.

"Has anyone come to see us?" Focusing on the problem at hand, Orin headed towards the cell door. "Seems awfully stupid to lock us away for a tavern scrap."

"No ones come," Arya answered, siding up next to him. "Yet."

"Do they know who you are?"

"I don't imagine she'd be here if they did," The large woman answered, joining them. Orin felt her gaze as he turned towards her. "Is it true? What Lady Arya tells me?"

Orin smiled at the name. "Lady Arya?"

"Shut up." Smiling, Arya turned towards the woman. "Arya Brienne, remember."

"Apologies My Lady." The woman bowed her head respectively.

"Brienne?" Orin repeated, mostly to himself.

It felt like a lifetime ago, but Orin would never forget the brief moments he spent with Robb and Catelyn Stark. He tried to remember nearly everything about their meeting, down to every word, and was sure that the name Brienne had been mentioned once or twice.

"You're Brienne of Tarth?" Orin continued, already knowing the answer. "Catelyn Stark's shield."

"And now her daughters," Brienne corrected.

Orin had almost forgot that before he'd been sent to Kings Landing to help Sansa, Brienne had been tasked with returning Jaime Lannister in hopes of trading him for the girl. Seemed rather foolish to expect the royal family to agree to those terms when everyone they wanted lay in their hands. Still, Catelyn Stark had been desperate, and Brienne had agreed to the dangerous task.

"Seems we fight for the same side," Orin remarked slowly.

It was hard to understand sides in Westeros at the moment, especially for Orin, when not so long ago he'd sworn to help Daenerys achieve her goal. Yet Arya was family, just in blood, but that had to mean something.

"I fight to protect the Stark girls," Brienne clarified. Eyeing him suspiciously, she continued. "I'm not entirely sure what side you fight for, regardless of your supposed name."

Turning away from the hard glance from Catelyn Stark's shield, Orin trained his eyes towards the floor of their cell, hoping to find something useful in helping them escape their current predicament. Unnoticed from before, the sight of the boy who'd stood beside Brienne of Tarth lay motionless in the dark.

Knowing who Brienne now was, Orin felt pity for the boy, as he remembered giving him quite the shot to the head.

"Your suspicion is noted My Lady," Orin began. "But you aren't the first to question if what I say is true and I know you will not be the last. You question my loyalty, name, and integrity, but I assure you, I've lost too much because of who I am, and will not let that be for nothing."

Whatever those words meant to the woman meant little to him. He knew who he was and what he had left to do, and would not let the sneer of someone change that. Hopefully Arya would see differently, knowing full well the only opinion that mattered was hers.

The girl was still a mystery, but one he hoped he could rely on in the future.

"She found Sansa," Arya said quietly.

She should have sounded happier, which Orin noticed immediately. "How? Where is she?"

Unsure whether or not he was trustworthy, Brienne hesitated before Arya nodded faintly. Turning, she explained briefly. "After Stannis Baratheons failed attack on Winterfell. I found her fleeing the castle into the woods. Killed the men after her and escorted her to Castle Black so that she could be with her brother."

"And where are they now?"

Brienne's grim look gave Orin all he needed to know.

* * *

"Are you sure there's no other way?" Turning tiredly towards Tyrion, Daenerys tried to reason with the man. "Surely there's an alternative approach here we are not seeing."

"Your Grace," Tyrion began, unsure how to continue. "You are the queen, and at the end of the day what you say is law. I understand that seems a bit, how should I put it? Blunt? Crass? Dramatic perhaps? Regardless of my choice of words, you give the orders, and we obey."

Dany knew all this. "Your point being?"

Smiling, Tyrion continued. "The point is if your considering what I say to be true, then you know deep down that it's a problem. One we should address at the very least seeing as how you will not be in Meereen for much longer."

This day had always been in the back of Dany's mind the moment she knew she'd soon sail towards Westeros. It was almost easier forgetting about the throne and ruling from Meereen. Perhaps here would be best suited for her abilities. Yet the notion would die the second she pondered it. Her devotion to getting her desires was a reason so many believed in her, and she refused to settle and give in when she promised thousands that she'd achieve her goal.

Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was what she wanted, and she would not let anything stand in her way.

"You can't leave Meereen in hands you do not trust," Tyrion continued. Stepping outside above the ledge of the pyramid, he joined Daenerys in watching the city below. "The moment you leave, this place will turn to chaos. You care for these people, so much that you delayed your own goal in order to protect them. Stannis Baratheon is dead, my nephew is the only king left, and the Dornish fleet is now yours. Now is the best time to strike."

Daenerys understood where Tyrion was going, but still could not see to speak the words. "You want me to leave nearly 2000 fighting men here and deplete my forces."

"If not them the city will become what it once was, and I imagine that's not an option."

"It's not." The thought of leaving her men here made perfect sense, but 2000 was far to great a number for her to stomach. "We need more soldiers."

Nodding his head, Tyrion smiled up towards her. "That'd be a nice addition your grace but there isn't a military in Westeros that isn't dead or aligned with the current crown. Between the North, Riverlands, and the Reach, my sister has it all."

Cersei Lannister controlled a great deal, and for a moment, Daenerys could respect that. A boy sat on the throne but she knew that Cersei held all the true power in Kings Landing. Nearly all the lands followed her, save for the Dornish, and even with them Dany would not take a chance with her peoples lives if it wasn't a fight she was sure she could win.

Looking back inside, her eyes looked around the beautiful room she had called home for quite sometime. Every detail of the great pyramid was etched in her head, good and bad, and would stay with her forever. She wanted to remember her journey from being her brother's slave to Queen of Meereen.

So much suffering had happened to get here, and so many had died in her name. It was a tragic story, but as she turned towards her Unsullied guards by her door, she knew she wasn't alone.

Her people had suffered as well, perhaps more, and now together they were stronger for it. Each terrible story led them here, to the brink of a better world, and with it the drive to see it done.

Nodding towards her men, Daenerys couldn't help the small smile form on her lips as she turned back towards her Hand. "I have a plan."

"Does it involve burning cities? Because I'd like to offer a different approach."

Daenerys smirked at the jest. "I was promised something a long time ago, from my Husband."

"Husband?" Tyrion mumbled.

"It's time I deliver on that promise."

* * *

Podrick Payne had not stopped looking Orin's way since the moment he'd woken. At first he assumed the boy was mad at the nasty looking bruise he'd gotten from their fight. It was understandable, but there was hardly any fire in the boy's eyes.

He hadn't spoken, to him at least, but still his curious eyes stared at him.

"I don't like this plan," Brienne repeated for the third time.

Thankful at the distraction, Orin turned towards her once more. "This is the only one that makes sense. You can help Sansa and in doing so we can get out of this cell."

"That's if this plan of yours works."

"Either we die now, or we sit here waiting to die and fail all the same." Orin had been on the brink of death many times and now knew a quick death was a much better option. "It's been almost two days, no ones coming, and we have no time to waste if what you say is true."

"It's true." Brienne's glare was all he needed to back off.

"Then he's right." Thankful at the help, Orin turned to Arya who had spoken up finally. Unlike Brienne who had plenty to say about the stupidity of his plan, Arya sat and pondered in silence. "My brother rots in a cell, and Jon and Sansa plan to rally the North to save him and my home. They need men now more then ever."

"My Lady," Brienne started but quickly noticed Arya's face. "Arya, if we do this, there's a chance we die and your put in chains."

It was the worst possible outcome, but Orin knew in his heart was the only way in succeeding. The risk was high but the reward would be even higher if it all went according to plan.

"We aren't so well suited that we can turn away help." Remembering his own words, Orin turned towards Arya who nodded towards him. "This is the best way in helping my family and getting us out of here. Do it."

Hoping he wasn't making a terrible mistake, Orin gripped the rock he'd found near the cell wall, and began smashing it against the rusted pole of their prison. The noise was quite loud, and he imagined if he continued without interruption, he'd be able to break off one of the older looking poles.

However soon enough, the sound of a man's footsteps along with mumbled curses was soon heard and the beginning of their plan was put into place.


	42. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41**

The main hall where Lord Manderly sat wasn't very memorable considering some of the others Orin had witnessed during his travels. It wasn't fair to slander the home of a family who ruled here for over a thousand years and by no means did Orin think to do, it was just a small detail he noticed as he stood staring around the room.

Life had been quite fragile in the past few months, so taking in every sight was something he came to do every now and then. Who knew when the sword meant to kill him would finally strike? He'd been so close to death it was quite possible he'd die in this very room.

Thankfully he was alive, as were his newest traveling companions, and together they stood addressing the Lord of White Harbor Wyman Manderly. A large man, with hair white as snow, and a look cold as the winds that came with it.

Back in Starfall, Orin's mother saw about being part of every decision that came when sentencing a man or woman for a crime. She would hear out their pleas, converse with her council, and pass sentence if deemed necessary.

White Harbor was one of the only places in Westeros big enough to call itself a city. The amount of people living here was far greater then Starfall, meaning that to oversee all these people, surely meant that Lord Manderly did not have time to govern over each and every one.

"I did not think a tavern fight was good enough reason for me to hear these people out." For half a moment, Orin thought Lord Manderly had addressed them, but quickly noticed a guard shake his head, while his ears turned red from the comment. "Why am I here?"

"These people say they have news to tell us my Lord," The guard offered.

Sighing, the Lord of White Harbor turned to them. "I don't deal with drunks, not when my city has more important matters to deal with."

"Yet you're here," Orin finally said.

"Yes I am. Why is that?"

"Jon Snow plans to rally the North and retake his home against the Boltons who betrayed and killed most of his family. If what I've come to know is true, he's yet to hear a response from you and your people on whether you plan to join him."

The mention of Jon's request had Wyman Manderly's eyes harden. "Is that what this is? Another attempt in getting my people to die for nothing?"

Beside him, Orin noticed Arya tense up. "Easy."

Ignoring them, Lord Manderly turned towards Brienne. "Still doesn't explain why the lot of you decided on tearing apart a local tavern if all you wanted was another audience in hopes of pleading Jon Snow's case. So what of it? Are some of you Boltons, and the others aren't?"

"We do not serve the Boltons my Lord," Brienne stepped forward. "My name is Brienne of Tarth and I serve Sansa Stark."

"Catelyn Starks shield," Lord Manderly summarized. Turning towards his guards, he pointed with a smile. "This ones responsible for helping free the Kingslayer."

Behind him, a few men laughed as Brienne's face faltered for the slightest moment. It was cruel to mock someone who only did what her Lady had asked of her. Orin hardly knew Brienne, but what he did know was that her loyalty was leaps and bounds above most.

"I'd mind your words my Lord. Brienne has more honor then all of you."

Arya's veiled threat was quiet enough that Orin thought he hadn't heard it, but the moment he saw the harsh glare from the Lord of White Harbor, he knew he was wrong.

"Careful girl, I will not take insults kindly!"

Insulting the Lord of the place they stood was not the plan, but clearly Arya had different ideas. "You insult yourself sitting here in the shelter of your home while my family prepares to fight for the North's freedom."

The moment the four of them walked into the great hall, Orin waited for the moment for Wyman Manderly to recognize Arya, but it never came. She had changed so much after all these years that one of her father's greatest allies didn't think twice about who she could be.

Yet Orin could now see the struggle in Wyman's eyes as he peered harder towards her, wondering who she truly was.

"Your family," Wyman repeated. "And who exactly are you?"

The next words Arya spoke were the most dangerous, but her cool demeanor had Orin about as relaxed as he could be. "Arya Stark."

A few uneasy looks were passed between guards before Lord Manderly spoke. "Arya Stark has been missing and presumed dead for quite some time. You expect me to believe that what you say is true? You take me for a fool?"

"I will not stand here defending myself when you refuse to honor the vow you swore my family. Clearly words mean very little to you."

"Arya," Orin whispered. The truth was nice, but insulting a man in his home was incredibly dangerous. "Stop it."

"Why? For so long my father ruled over the North with grace and respect, and in doing so, earned the respect from all the Lords from White Harbor to Bear Island. Yet when his children, the only Starks left after the others were slaughtered at a wedding ask for help, they are refused." Turning away from him, Arya turned towards Lord Manderly. "The Boltons killed my brother, your King, and you sit here doing nothing."

The mention of Robb had Wyman Manderly's attention.

"You're asking me to risk the safety of my people, to align my soldiers with Wildlings, and to fight against the Warden of the North." Gone was the anger from Lord Manderly's voice. "And you want me to do this all off your word that your possibly Ned Stark's youngest daughter who has been known to be dead. I admire your fire young lady but I have a responsibility to my people first. I can't take the word of a stranger to heart."

"My Lord?" Stepping forward, Orin caught the attention of Lord Manderly.

"Go on lad."

Gesturing towards Brienne, Orin began. "This is Brienne of Tarth, only daughter of Selwyn Tarth, a respected man in Westeros. Beside her is one of only two people in this world she is sworn to protect. She freed Jaime Lannister off the orders of Catelyn Stark knowing full well how dangerous the task was. Regardless of what you may think, is their any doubt that this warrior is someone who takes their oaths less seriously then others."

"If not for her, Jaime Lannister would still be our prisoner and the war would have gone quite differently I can assure you."

Shaking his head, Orin continued. "That is not what I'm arguing."

"Then spit it out boy!"

Annoyed at the comment, Orin sighed. "She just risked admitting that she is in the company of Arya Stark. Do you really think she'd do that unless it was completely necessary?"

Orin could tell his words were starting to make sense for Wyman Manderly but still the man refused. "Have you ever been in a war boy? Lots of things you hear are quite different then what you see. How do I know this isn't a trap? I'm supposed to believe the words of a girl I thought dead, a disgraced warrior who helped free a prisoner, and you, a person I'd never met before. Who exactly are you Ser?"

"I'm not a knight."

Laughing, Lord Manderly gestured beside him, where a guard pulled out the familiar sight of his sword. "I'm old boy but not that old. I've seen a thousand swords, held quite a few myself, but there is only one sword on this continent that looks like this, and I assure you, it didn't belong to you."

It did now.

"My name is Orin Sand, Ser Arthur Dayne was my uncle," Orin explained. "My mother, Ashara Dayne, gifted me that sword the day she died."

A few seconds past as Wyman Manderly pondered Orin's words. His eyes never left the sword as he admired the beauty of dawn before turning to his guests. "How do I know you didn't steal it?"

Orin nearly chocked back a laugh as he smiled. "You obviously haven't been to Starfall my Lord. On any given day this sword was more protected then the King would be in Kings Landing. Men come and go, but this sword is the foundation of my home. No man or woman would ever attempt to steal it, knowing full well death followed."

His entire life, not once had Orin heard a whisper about an attempt to steal Dawn from Starfall. He himself had tried many times just the wield the weapon as a child, but other then that, the sword was truly impossible to get to.

"Your uncle was the finest Knight in all the land," Lord Manderly finally said.

Orin had heard the words a thousand times, but never did he grow tired of the admiration his uncle held to so many. "I'm fully aware my Lord. But we did not ask to be summoned to discuss my uncle. Jon Snow has asked for your help. Regardless if you believe what we have to say, there are still Stark children who rely on your support."

"I supported Robb Stark and in doing so my son was butchered at the Red Wedding. None of you could possibly understand what it's like to lose a child." Sighing in frustration, Wyman Manderly turned towards Arya. "I want to believe you, truly I do. Knowing another child of Ned's is out there is a blessing. Yet I've lose too much, just as you have, and I'm afraid I can't lose the little I have left."

The words hung in the air as Orin stole a glance towards Arya. He was a tad surprised how composed she stood, listening to the rejection of the Manderly support. Her eyes never wavered, as she nodded slowly before turning and walking out the room.

Kind enough, Lord Manderly nodded towards his guards, letting Arya pass, as Brienne motioned towards Pod to follow her out the room. Soon enough only Brienne and Orin stood facing off at the now standing Wyman Manderly.

"I take it you two have resolved whatever issues you had at the tavern?" He asked curiously.

Orin was sure he was done fighting Brienne, mostly on the account that he did not want to again. "It was a misunderstanding."

"Most of them are."

"Brienne swore an oath to protect the Stark girls," Orin continued. "As it so happens, I wish to help in whatever was I can."

Curious once more, Lord Manderly turned to him with a raised brow. "Why is that exactly? You're a long way from Dorne."

Stealing a glance towards Brienne, Orin shuffled from one foot to another, before lying. "My mother was close with Ned Stark. Before she passed, she had wished the same for their children. This is my way in honoring that."

A lie covered with just enough truth to sound believable. It had been decided strongly by everyone that even remotely discussing Orin's true parentage would make everything that much harder. Having a Lord of a proud house believe one far-fetched idea was hard enough before destroying everything he believed in as well.

Arya's resurrection was slim, Orin's true name was just impossible to fathom at the moment. So it had been decided, and in the end, even with Wyman Manderly's poor attempt of sympathy, they had failed nevertheless.

"Is their any chance you believe us?" Orin asked once more. The thought of failing sat terribly in his stomach.

For his part, Lord Manderly did seem remorseful at the predicament they all were in. "Starks a hard to kill. Wouldn't be impossible."

"Yet you won't commit your men," Brienne finished.

"No." Turning towards the large fireplace providing the only light in the darkened room, Wyman Manderly froze for a few moments. "I lost my son fighting Robb Starks war. He was at the Red Wedding standing by his King as they celebrated a marriage. Now…now that day will live on in history as one of the most tragic ends to a rebellion. That's how my son will be remembered. I can't picture the man he'd grow to be, only imagine the way he was slaughtered that night. Do you understand?"

Every night before bed since his return towards Westeros Orin saw his mothers face as she lay dead in his arms. Each day that started and soon ended, he dealt with the tragedy that was his life every time. Wyman Manderly experienced a loss that no father should ever have to endure, but Orin could relate to the suffering the man felt.

He felt it too, and as he remembered all those he crossed paths with on his journey, he imagined they had too.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Orin finally said.

"As am I." Turning back towards them, Wyman Manderly waved his hand over towards a guard who was still holding Dawn. "You're free to go."

It didn't take long before both Orin and Brienne were strapping their swords back around their waists and grabbing hold of everything else they had been stripped of. Needle, Arya's sword, sat strapped around Orin's other side, waiting to be returned to its rightful owner.

"I'm sorry I can't help you both. If there's anything else I can do, now's the time to ask."

Those words weren't what they hoped to hear, but Orin had to take comfort that they were free to go. "A horse would go a long way."

"Done."

Turning to Brienne, Orin wondered if there was anything else they needed, yet before he could ask, she shook her head, signaling the end of that idea. "Then we best be off."

Nodding his head, Wyman Manderly gestured towards the exit. Together, the three made their way out the door into a greater hall that had a view of the outside of White Harbor. The snow outside was falling harder then it was when they had last seen it, and by now everything must have been covered white.

"Beautiful isn't it?" Orin turned to see Wyman Manderly smiling at him. "Ever see snow before?"

Shaking his head, Orin answered. "Never."

Once last silence came before them as the three watched the coming storm. It was quiet, peaceful, and for a moment, there wasn't a war to fight. No one had to die, no one had to suffer, all they needed was to stand and watch as winter came.

"Protect her," The Lord of White Harbor finally said. Orin wasn't sure whom he was talking to, as all three continued to watch the snow fall. "Protect her as best you can."

* * *

"That could have gone worse."

Arya glared towards Orin as he handed her back her sword and belongings. It didn't take long for him and Brienne to find her and Pod outside the stables readying the horses in a hurry. Pod remained quiet like he had been so far, but Arya's anger was evident.

"He's a coward!" She cried, refusing to lower her voice. "My father ruled the North with respect, and this is how his bannermen repay him."

The girl's anger was justified, but causing a scene wouldn't help anyone.

"He lost his son Arya," Orin began.

"And I lost my mother and brother! But I refuse to let those who hurt my family go on without getting justice."

Orin turned towards Brienne but noticed she had given the two of them space. Turning back to the stubborn girl, he tried a different approach. "You have to see it differently. He's responsible for…"

"His men? How will he be able to protect his men when the Boltons turn their eyes towards the Lords who refused them." Turning her back towards him, she gently stroked the mane of her horse as she whispered. "I don't know why I'm arguing with you of all people. You don't understand. You're not from the North."

She had meant to hurt him with that remark, but all Orin could feel was pity, mostly for himself. He didn't have the slightest idea what to say to make everything better, and he knew there wasn't anything he could do. This was their harsh reality, and unlike the stories they grew up reading, there didn't seem to be an end in sight.

* * *

Darkness had washed over White Harbor quick enough to delay the trek south towards Riverrun. Lord Manderly had been kind enough to allow the four of them to spend the night in one of the Inn's unnoticed. They had taken a great chance with Arya's name and the Lord of White Harbor knew it. He ruled his city, but even he knew that not all who dwelled inside the walls in the city were loyal to him.

Only the 4 guards inside the great hall at the time of their meeting knew the truth, and Wyman Manderly trusted them with his life.

Orin didn't feel the same way, so he sat awake over the others, ready and waiting for the morning to come. Brienne had offered, most likely feeling the same way, but he refused, only relenting to switch shifts later on.

Looking around the small room, Orin couldn't help but feel disappointed at his surroundings. This was the furthest north he'd ever gone in his life, the first real night in the lands that he would have ruled over, and he felt nothing.

The way Arya and Wyman Manderly spoke about the north, their families, their people, it was all so foreign to him. In Starfall the only family he'd grown close to was the Martells and even then he only saw them on occasion. Yet here in the north, there was a brotherhood, a broken one now, but a past that united the houses as one.

Ned Stark must have been quite the leader the rule over such a vast land yet manage the houses under him with respect. It was that type of character that made Orin doubt himself on his ability to lead.

There wasn't a doubt in his mind that he could fight and be honorable like his father and uncles before him, but to lead men, to lead a house, that was lost on him. Looking down at Dawn, he wondered if his uncle ever felt the same. He'd forsaken his claim to Starfall to protect the Targaryen dynasty, and maybe to run away from the responsibility of leading his home. Perhaps it was easier protecting a prince then it was protecting your family. Yet it all seemed a bit pointless now, as both Orin and his uncle had failed in their duties.

"I'm sorry."

It wasn't much of a surprise to see Arya up staring towards him. So much of the girl was unusual that whatever he expected her to do, she didn't.

Smiling in the darkness, Orin looked back at his sword. "No your not. You're angry, as you should be. If someone refused to help my family, I don't know what I'd do."

"Did you have any siblings growing up?" The curiosity in her voice startled him as he looked up.

"My mother never married again." It was a crime to ponder the fact that Ashara Dayne never got to chance to share a life with someone she loved. "She used to say I was too much too handle without another child joining me."

"It must have been difficult, growing up without a father."

Thinking of Conin, and all those who helped his mother, Orin shook his head. "Not as difficult as you might imagine. My mother had plenty of help, and I grew close with them."

Had things been different, Orin probably wouldn't have had the close relationships with the people he grew up with. If his father had lived, he would have never met Conin, or Lewin, or Rydan, or any of the people he grew up with in Starfall.

The north would have been his home and he would have grown up with the Starks. A trade of sorts, one family for another, and as much as he wondered since he found out the truth, he couldn't imagine trading Starfall for Winterfell. It was his life, and as much as it had gone to shit in the past years, he had a happy life at one time.

Even if he never met his father.

"I used to think about my father when I was younger," Orin admitted. "Every night before I went to sleep I'd stay up an extra hour looking out the window of my room hoping to see a rider in the night. It was a fool's errand but I must have done it for two years.

"Then one night, when I was six, my mother caught me. I could have sworn she'd get angry that I was up for so long, but she took me in her arms after I explained what I had been doing, and sat with me for the rest of the night. Together we waited for my father to return."

"But she knew the truth," Arya said quietly.

"And still for the next year every night she came inside and waited with me," Orin smiled tearfully. "It was never about learning the truth. It was the fact that she understood the pain of my father's absence, and still sat with me.

"After awhile I stopped waiting, and accepted that he'd never come back. He'd died fighting in the war, was what I'd say. That's what you wanted to hear right? Your father had fought bravely for a king or queen and you were supposed to be proud. It's maddening to think about really. Then years later, I learned the truth. It's hard believing one horror and then finding out that the truth is that much worse."

There were no words of comfort that could follow the tragic story of Brandon Stark. Feeling it all, Orin surprised himself by admitting all that. No one had ever heard that story, not even Conin, but somehow a few words from a girl he hardly knew had him speaking his deepest secrets.

His eyes felt heavy as he looked up at Arya. There wasn't a reaction he expected to see that would make him feel less vulnerable, but he was thankful to see the small smile upon her face.

No words were spoken for the rest of the night, and none need to be, as the two sat awake waiting for the sunrise to come and a fresh start with it.


	43. Chapter 42

**Poseidon3000: Thank you!**

* * *

 **Chapter 42**

The next morning Orin found himself inside the stables packing his belongings alongside Brienne. Neither said the words, but both had been on edge the entire night expecting someone to break down the doors and attempt to kill them all.

Whether or not anyone believed Arya's true identity was out of their hands, but protecting her if they did was still there only job. Orin wasn't sure if he was up to the task of having someone's life in his hands once again, considering all that had happened, but in the end he knew he didn't have to.

Whatever lessons Braavos had taught Arya Stark had done the job. The girl needed no protecting, not from him, not from Brienne, and that was the best outcome they could hope for.

"You ever meet the Blackfish?" Orin finally asked.

The Manderly forces had been the last shot of hope before Brienne and Pod made the journey South towards Riverrun. Somehow the Blackfish had taken the castle back from the Frey's and was garrisoned there with his men. They would not win a war on their own, but aligned with Jon's forces; it'd make for quite an army.

"Haven't had the pleasure," She answered shortly.

Catelyn Starks shield was still a mystery to Orin, but she was one of the only allies he had at the moment. "Interesting man, not one for small talk."

"Neither am I."

The sharp remark had Orin grinning as he turned back to his horse. "Apologies."

Together the two quietly finished off packing their things.

Pod and Arya returned not long after with the remaining things they'd need for the road. Food, clothing, some coin, all the things needed on surviving. The coin was an added bonus, which begged more questions as to how Arya managed to obtain some.

"I hope whoever misses that needs it less then we do," Orin remarked while brushing his horse, gesturing towards the pouch of coins hanging by her side.

Smiling lightly, Arya shrugged. "Four travelers on a journey with maybe the only hope the north has, I'd say we need all the help we can get."

"Aye, we do," Orin smiled back.

Looking back at Brienne and Pod, Arya hesitated before shaking her head. "I…I don't think this plan can work. Not in the way you expect."

Orin knew what she meant. "This is how you save your brother. This is the only way."

"Then let me come with you," Arya pleaded.

Brienne, hearing her pleas, quickly stepped forward. "My Lady you know we can't."

"He's my little brother!"

Stepping close to her, Orin tried to think what his mother would say to him when he was scared. She had a gift, to soothe him whether he was hurt or scared, alone or unsure, whatever he needed, whatever day it was, his mother's comfort was there for him.

Arya lost that a long time ago.

Gently putting his hand on her shoulder, he looked down at her softly. "Can I make you a promise?"

"Robb's men made him promises," She said quietly.

"They did," Orin whispered. Thinking long and hard where he was going, he quickly pulled out Dawn, knowing this is what he had to do. "This is the only thing left I have from my family, and I want you to have it till we meet again. Protect what's left of my family, and I'll do the same for you. Can you do that? Can you trust in me?"

Arya smiled lightly, eyeing the sword before looking up at him. "I can help you. I can fight. I can do things you couldn't imagine."

"I don't doubt that," Orin agreed. "Believe me, through all the shit I've seen, I'm continually reminded how strong the women around my life our. You're no exception. But this is how you live on. This gives your family the best chance in retaking your home. You might be the only person on this continent more stubborn then the Blackfish and that could work in your favor in convincing him to fight."

Arya debated, long and hard, but finally, she gripped the hilt of Dawn. "My father told me stories about it. This is the most legendary sword in all the realm."

"It is." Looking down, he knew the best hands for his sword where hers. "You're the closest thing to family I have left, and there's no one I trust more with it then you."

Nodding her head, Arya took the sword and held it high. It was heavier then the one she was used to, and needed two hands to keep it from swaying. The sight of someone other then him wielding Dawn was odd, but if he somehow broke his promise and died north, the last thing he wanted was a Bolton carrying it.

"You're very foolish," Brienne remarked, also admiring the sight of Dawn. Orin knew she was against the idea of him traveling north alone to save Rickon, but she understood it. "Brave perhaps, but foolish. I hope this plan of yours works, for her sake, and her brothers."

Orin nodded, knowing she was right. "Do you believe in the impossible my Lady?"

Brienne rolled her eyes towards him, perhaps at the title, or the question, he didn't know for sure.

"I didn't," Orin continued, as he climbed atop his horse. Looking up to the sky, he imagined a beautiful sight. "Then I saw a dragon."

His mother's death had given him a reason to fight, but Daenerys Targaryen had given him a reason to live. He wanted to be part of her new world, to see what would become of it. Saving Rickon, retaking the North, it all had a part to play in the future of Westeros.

"I wish we had another plan," Arya said looking up at him. Before he could answer, she dug something out of her pocket and handed it to him. It was a piece of paper, folded up, with the name Jon written across the top. "When you see Jon and Sansa, will you give that to them."

Orin didn't think it'd be wise to carry a letter intended for the man opposing Ramsay Bolton, but he took it anyway. "Hopefully I won't have to."

Arya smiled faintly, as she nodded one last time before turning towards her horse. She didn't give him another look as she kicked off and raced down the road in a hurry. Pod was quickly off next at the command of Brienne as the large warrior approached his side with a vacant look.

"I won't ask if you'll protect her," Orin said.

"Good." Waiting another brief moment, Brienne finally turned to him. "I'm still not sure about you, but she trusts you, against even her own judgment, so I'm inclined to warn you one last time about what you're walking into."

Danger was not something Orin feared any longer. "I've been through quite a lot, Ramsay Bolton is just another man."

Brienne frowned. "You think he is, but believe me, he's much worse."

Quickly following the others, Brienne took off after them, leaving Orin alone in the stables waiting to head north to whatever dangers lied ahead.

* * *

The cold winds were almost enough to make Orin regret his decision to travel towards Winterfell. For the last day and a half, snow continued to fall from the sky, as a brisk chill tore at his skin like a poisonous rash. Each breath he sucked in became harder as his horse slowly trudged through the thick snow.

Around him, as he narrowed his eyes through the thick fur around his neck and face, he couldn't make out a damn thing. Everything, from the sky to the floor was white, save for the trees, and even they looked the same. There was no distinction, no difference, just hills and forest covered in snow.

White Harbor started to almost feel like a legend at this point. How was it a city could function is this sort of climate?

Thinking long on it, Orin agreed that whatever traits he got from his father, coping with the cold was not one of them. He was Dornish, through and through, and the only thing he'd come close to resembling a northerner, was the itchy beard he'd started to grow.

A month traveling from Bravos to White Harbor had left little time to deal with trivial tasks like shaving. Besides, he remembered Arya stating that the beard would do a better job in selling his role as a northerner.

Spotting a cluster of trees around a large rock with just enough cover to keep his head down for a few hours, Orin directed his horse towards it, hoping to catch his breath for only a minute.

Maybe more.

Sighing, he collapsed onto the floor, his back against the make shift cave, as his horse nibbled on the food he held out in his hand. A fire would have been nice, for warmth and food, but the closer he got to Winterfell the more he needed to be wary of his surroundings. From White Harbor to the wall, every man woman and child new these lands better then he did, and the moment he forgot that, he'd sooner find himself dead with an axe buried in his skull.

So he needed to be smart, and patient, and when the fight came, he'd be ready.

Wyman Manderly had been kind enough to not only provide him with a horse, but a sword as well. It was an odd request given he had one, but the Lord of White Harbor relented all the same. Of course guilt of refusing to answer the Starks call played a part no doubt, but the steel by his hip was enough to let him forget that for awhile.

Closing his eyes, Orin wondered where Arya was. The journey to Riverrun would be longer then his to Winterfell, and he suspected she was riding by Brienne's side near the Kings Road.

He hoped Dawn was nearby, preferably on her horse's side where she could see it at any moment. It was foolish to abandon his ancestral sword but even more foolish to carry that sort of weapon into Winterfell. That sword was his only source of identity in a land that knew little of him, and trying to pass as a northerner with it by his side was doomed to fail.

" _They'll never trust you," Arya had said. She paced them room back and forth trying to figure out a way to save her brother. "With war at their doorstep, any man with half a head wouldn't trust a stranger in times like this."_

" _She's right," Brienne agreed. "Rickon Stark is the one advantage the Boltons have. It's the reason Sansa and her brother gathered an army in the first place, among others."_

 _Orin wondered what Brienne meant by that. "Jon has half the men Ramsay does, and that's being kind. Ramsay has the numbers; he has Winterfell, and has Rickon. He has all the advantages to win this war. The only thing we could do ourselves it get Rickon out. Without the Manderly support or the Blackfish, Jon will have to hope the Wildlings are as good enough killers as they make themselves off to be. Will never take Winterfell, not now at least. Rickon is the only option in bettering the odds for Jon."_

" _That still doesn't help you in passing as a northerner," Arya pointed out knowingly._

 _Thinking hard on that problem, Orin smiled. "It's not getting into Winterfell that bothers me, it's getting out."_

 _Looking towards the only person who had any insight on the castle, Orin waited patiently until Arya rolled her eyes at him. "There might be a way that Bran had showed me years ago, but I can't know if it will be guarded. Winterfell may not have changed, but the people inside have. Once inside, you'll be surrounded by men who won't hesitate to kill you."_

" _I can manage that."_

" _Can you?" Brienne asked. She sat still for a moment gathering her thoughts. "The last person who tried helping Sansa inside that castle was killed in ways no person should ever endure. Sansa saw the body, or what remained. That's your fate if you're caught."_

 _The Boltons flayed man on their banner was common knowledge around the realm, as were there tendency to commit the act. Torture was the tool of a lesser man, and one Orin had dealt with not too long ago._

 _Lightly touching the side of his face with his injured hand, Orin spoke. "I was not born like this My Lady. I've very aware of the cost of being caught."_

Kill or be killed was the nature of life now for Orin. It was something his mother was against her entire life, and now that he had a taste for it, he understood why.

 _SNAP!_

Eyes wide, Orin quickly shifted forward, hand on his sword, as he stared silently into the forest wondering where the noise came from. His horse continued to eat as he ignored whatever noise there was out there.

Rising as quietly as possible, Orin took a few steps along the wall of his cave before he came to a small ridge covered in snow. The noise came from the north, loud enough to hear, but quiet enough to know it wasn't very close.

Collapsing onto the snow, he crawled to the top of the ridge separating his cave from whatever was on the other side, and came to a stop. A few dozen yards away, he spotted two men in metal platted armor laughing as they sat in the snow.

One of the men, holding a rope tight in his hands, had a large branch atop his legs as he tried to shift his way out from under it. Looking up at the tree they were under, Orin spotted the fresh nub where the branch had fallen.

He was too far to hear any words, but noticed their smiles and heard their faint laughs as they rose from the snow. Soon enough, the man with the rope tossed it high in the sky towards the tree, and around another branch. The twig was far bigger, and the man nodded as he gave a slight pull waiting for it to fall.

It never did as he smiled in triumph.

Continuing to pull, Orin watched as the end of the rope soon hoisted a body out from the snow and high into the air as it hung from the tree. The source of the break was obvious now as the men hung the body for the world to see. They laughed and paraded as they hung another body from another tree. Soon two bodies hung like decorations in a castle as the men admired their work.

Both men were dead, avoiding the suffering from hanging, but not the humiliation that followed long after there last breath. Using dead bodies as trophies was a sign of a weak and demented mind, as only monsters craved more bloodshed after death.

Orin wasn't sure who the men were, or if they deserved death, but he did know that he had never seen men like that. Their outfits were unlike anything he'd ever witnessed. Stitched together with any fur lying around, with pieces of bones hanging from their necks. It was the oddest piece of clothing he'd seen since the few Dothraki Daenerys had patrolling around Mereen.

The others though, the two laughing soldiers who continued to jest and poke at the bodies wore very familiar clothing. The Boltons were not a great house, but most would recognize the flayed man on their banners. It wasn't enough to humiliate the dead, but the two had to hang a banner around one of the dead men to show who had been responsible.

They thought they were clever, but in truth, they had just told Orin all he needed to know about who these men's allegiance was towards.

Orin briefly eyed his horse, but decided against it. His horse would be an advantage, but a bow strapped around one of the men's shoulders was enough to worry. One well placed shot, and he was on foot the rest of the way.

Picking himself off the floor, Orin quietly made his was towards them as they started on a third body. The white snow made for poor cover in a large dark cloak, but the trees alone were enough to hide him. The men continued on, laughing and hanging, as he got closer and closer.

"Dangerous Wilding my ass," Orin overheard. "Look at them up there, like a sack of shit."

The other laughed as he pulled, completely lost in the task.

They were only a dozen feet away now as Orin peered his head around the tree he hid behind. Looking around, he hoped they were the only two in their party, knowing one well placed shout, and others might soon join them. Taking a chance, Orin quickly peeled of his cloak, and pulled out a small knife.

 _12 steps away._

Turning back, the two Bolton soldiers continued their job as he approached. The one pulling had his back towards him and the other was too busy poking at the bodies to notice him approaching.

 _7 steps away._

Orin gripped the knife hard, readying himself for what had to be a perfect shot.

 _2 steps away._

He could smell the ale on their bodies as he lunged forward, knife first, and jabbed the small blade into the side of the man's throat. Blood quickly poured out, covering his hand as he let the knife go.

The friend, surprised at the attack, didn't have a chance to scream as the body the dead Bolton had been hoisting collapsed on top of him in a hurry. Orin quickly made his way towards the fallen soldier, pushing the body of the Wildling off and pressing his newest sword against the throat of the soldier.

"Please….please…mercy," The man blurted.

Orin tried to focus on the man's face but was too distracted with the smell of the man pissing himself half to death. "Where is Rickon Stark? Where is he? You shout or lie and you die, do you understand?"

The man shook his head quickly as he began to cry. "I…I…don't know where he is….I'm just a…a…scout. I haven't seen the walls of Winterfell in a half a fortnight."

"Liar." Orin pressed the sword a bit in, drawing blood from the mans neck.

"Please…Please I'll tell you anything, just let me go!"

The time it would take to get everything out of the man would be long, and quite loud, and night would soon be upon them. It was impossible to think that every guard from the Boltons army would know where the only Stark in Winterfell was, so Orin believed the man for now.

"I'll let you go," He whispered, easing the blade from the mans throat. "Just tell me this, what are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be readying yourself for battle."

"Caught a Wildling close to Winterfell scouting…" The man said. "Lord Bolton wanted to make sure there weren't any others. Asked us to find and hunt any down. Said don't come back till we did."

The man sounded proud at that last part.

Orin realized that sneaking into Winterfell wouldn't be a problem any longer. Unfortunately for the Wildlings who had died, he'd just gotten a way into the castle without being caught.

"Thank you," Orin said.

"Am…I free to…"

The man didn't get the chance to finish his last words as Orin swiftly cut his throat and left the man to die in the snow alone. Turning back towards the other, he stepped carefully around the puddle of blood and retrieved the knife that had been jammed inside.

The next half hour was spent cutting down the bodies of the Wildlings and covering the Boltons so no other would find the mess he'd left behind. Soon after, his horse carried the bodies of two of the three atop it's back, as the other had been too heavy for his horse to manage.

It felt wrong to use them as tools, just as the Bolton men had been doing, but Orin's reasoning would help better the chance of saving an innocent boy, and that meant more now then his honor.


End file.
